Murder Most Horrid
by Useful Oxymoron
Summary: In a world where Voldemort never existed, Bellatrix Black is a cynical and dour detective working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, subdivision Magical Homicides. When she is tasked to solve a murder at Hogwarts, a certain resident genius called Hermione Granger happens to be her prime suspect. AU, Bellamione, liberal amounts of fluff.
1. Witch Noir

Hello everyone,

This is my first entry in Harry Potter fiction and though I'm still a bit self-conscious about it, I've decided to start posting.

Bellamione has been a recent vice of mine. Though there are wonderful stories about these two on FF, I figured, hey, why not write one of my own? I wanted to do something different, though, so I decided to make it an AU in which Voldemort never existed. This would put characters in different places, characters who have died are still alive. The challenge was to put the characters in different lives, while trying to keep them all as close to the spirit of their original incarnation as possible.

Of course, the story turned out be quite a bit longer than I originally intended, and will be following different periods of Bellatrix's life with Hermione through a number of acts, as it were. Each act also represents a case Bellatrix is working on. Currently, three acts are planned, all from Bella's perspective.

Story is rated M for dark subject manner and, well, lovescenes. This _is _a Bellamione story, after all. I am a fan of fluff and humor, however, so there will be liberal amounts of both despite the dark subject matter. New chapters should be posted once week, provided my busy job doesn't throw a wench in the machinery.

In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy the story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

* * *

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 1: Witch Noir_

Bellatrix Black had smelled blood and was going in for the kill. The atmosphere in the room had gone from chilly to blistering hot as the boy in front of her was sweating like a pig more and more. She paced around the table and the boy, making him even more nervous.

"Look, I told you before..." he started. Bellatrix suddenly turned around her axis and slammed down both the flats of her hands on the table. This caused the third person in the room, a house-elf who was vigorously writing down the entire conversation, to start for a moment before he got back to his duty.

"And I told _you_ before I'm not interested in your lies!" she hissed. "The autopsy report is clear enough. Let me tell me you what really happened. Mister playboy wizard couldn't keep his trousers on with a girl he thought he was merely playing around with. Young girl, pretty, naive, in love, worshipped the ground you walked on. But you got her up the duff. And, oh dear... oh dear, oh dear, that was a problem for you, wasn't it? Oh, yes, because the girl was a half-blood, not good enough for your pure-blooded family, that's for sure. So you had to get rid of her."

"You can't pin this on me!" the boy shrieked. "You don't have any proof!"

"The mediwitch on duty already confirmed that the unborn child was yours," said Bellatrix as a grin appeared on her face. Oh, yes, she could see that she had him. It was etched on his face; the lad was a wounded animal backed into a corner. "And you were arrogant enough to think murdering her without using magic couldn't be tracked back to you!"

"Y... you don't..."

"YOU BASHED HER HEAD IN WITH THE SAME ANTIQUE CLOCK YOU PROMINENTLY DISPLAY IN YOUR BEDROOM! THE BLOODSTAINS ARE STILL ON IT! HOW MUCH OF AN IDIOT ARE YOU?!" Bellatrix shrieked at the top of her lungs. Really, the moron in front of her was just that: a complete and utter waste of space. She willed herself to calm down. "The impact broke the clock, permanently freezing it at 11:53, which the autopsy confirmed as roughly being the time of death. I have you, kid. You're not going to talk yourself out of this one."

Panic and abject terror was etched on the boy's face. It was over. "You're right," he whispered in defeat. "I killed her. She was pregnant, and wanted to keep the baby. My parents would have disowned me. I had to... I had to do it. You're a pure-blood yourself! You should understand!"

"Why?" Bellatrix crossed her arms as she looked at the pitiful excuse of a pure-blood sitting in front of her. "Should I feel sorry for you now? Because I certainly don't. I have a job to do; blood politics have nothing to do with any of this. If you were really concerned about blood purity and your family honor, you would have kept it in your pants in the first place! Let the Wizengamot decide if you'll be dementor food or not. I don't give a damn."

The boy said nothing more. He was completely and utterly defeated. The dark witch shook her head: what a complete and utter waste of space this little boy was, and an embarrassment to pure-bloods everywhere.

Bellatrix let out a brief sigh and nodded to the house-elf. "Dinky will write your confession in the record. We are done here," she said and, without looking at the now crying boy, she exited the interrogation room.

It led her into the main office of Magical Homicides, a sub-department of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and her workplace. Judging from all the empty desks, all her colleagues had already gone home for the day. This came as no big surprise; she was usually the first one in office and the last to leave in the evenings. However, today was an exception.

The only person who was still there, sitting at his own desk which was in a separate area apart from all the others, was her boss and superintendent of Magical Homicides, possibly even a bigger workaholic than she was. The man, named Jensen, was a few years younger than her and stood strikingly tall. A neatly trimmed beard and shaggy mane defined him as much as his gravely voice when he spoke. He suppressed a yawn before nodding. "Trix," he nodded.

"Jensen," Bellatrix nodded as the dark witch stepped through the door leading to his desk.

"You were in there for hours, Trix," Jensen started. "You don't even look tired."

"Heh, you know me," Bellatrix snorted. "I get off on shit like that."

"Too much information," Jensen snorted. Bellatrix merely shrugged. She and Jensen had been working together long enough to know where the both of them stood. Even in exile, Bellatrix considered herself a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and held beliefs in blood-purity which some people would find extreme. Jensen, in the meantime, was a half-blood whom had grown up in the Muggle world: not the two kind of people who would normally associate. Bellatrix did her best not to hold his breeding against him, however, as he was one of the most competent people she had met working at the Department. And, truth be told, she owed him a lot.

"You can take the Flint kid back to lockup," said Bellatrix as she plopped herself down on the nearest chair. "Dinky has recorded his confession. The courts'll slap a one-way ticket to Azkaban on his arse."

Jensen seemed quite impressed. "Excellent police work," he said. "Full confession and the murder weapon in hand. Open and shut case, he's not getting away with this. Hopefully the girl's family will find some peace with that. I doubt his family will be happy, but they never are."

Bellatrix nodded. Of course, Jensen always caught the brunt of all the complaints aimed at a member of his sub-department and was forced to carry it with good grace. She didn't envy him; no doubt the Flints would visit the Department higher-ups calling for blood. However, like Jensen said, this was an open and shut case, so all they'd be doing is blowing out a lot of hot air.

"You certainly look tired now," Jensen spoke with concern on his voice.

Bellatrix rubbed her forehead. "That's because I _am _tired," she said. All the pent up energy she had during the interrogation was leaving her in droves, leaving her feeling completely spent. And knew what was coming next. Jensen was someone who looked out of his people; this made him a good boss, but oh so annoying at times.

"Look, Trix, why don't you go home?"

"Paperwork, mum," Bellatrix frowned. "I still have to write up a report about this case."

"It's almost nine o'clock. Leave it till tomorrow," Jensen said. "Or you can let Jimmy do it for you. Trix, you've been here for over fourteen hours. Time to go home."

"Jensen..." Bellatrix started.

"Ah!" he held up his finger. "Don't make me order you to go home."

"You've been here longer than I have, and you're still here," Bellatrix challenged.

"Super's prerogative," Jensen shrugged.

Bellatrix sighed; she had been working this case around the clock and it didn't feel right to leave matters half finished like this. Then again, she did feel rather tired and it might be better to work on the details with a clear head. Against her better judgment, she decided to call it a night. Bellatrix got up from her seat, grabbed her long leather coat and wrapped it around her body.

"And get some proper food down your gob," Jensen called after her.

"Yes, mum!" Bellatrix mocked just before the door closed.

It wasn't long afterward when Bellatrix found herself home. After a quick bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron, she came home around midnight at her dingy little apartment located on the top floor of a wizarding tenement. Or, at least, it was quite dingy compared to her old ancestral home.

The apartment itself was small, yet cozy enough for her. She had the corner apartment, so she had windows on two sides. There was a living room with a couch and several bookcases, a small kitchen which was barely ever used, a small bathroom with shower and a bedroom to the side of the house which contained her only luxury: a queen-sized double bed. As usual, clothes and other assorted knick-knacks were strewn around the house. She had no house-elf to clean the place and, really, she wasn't home enough to warrant regular cleaning up anyway.

"Lights," Bellatrix commanded and the magical lamps in her house came to life to dispell the darkness.

She threw her coat onto the hanger right after closing the door and tossed her wand into an empty glass standing on the dressoir in the living room. With a sigh of relief, she yanked the corset off her midriff and tossed it on the couch, wondering why she ever wore that wretched thing in the first place.

A quick grab into the mail delivery box outside her window revealed three letters graciously owled to her. However, when she opened the first one, she was confronted with bright blue magical lips singing loudly in her room.

"CRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYY PRICES FOR SECOND-HAND BROOMS..." started the commercial howler before the dark witch grabbed it by both its lips and tossed out into the streets where it merrily continued its cheerful message. To the sounds of neighbors complaining and dogs barking, the annoyed Bellatrix shut her window and moved on to the next letter. It was a letter from her sister Andromeda, once again pleading for her to visit.

Bellatrix sighed. Andy was a kind-hearted woman who meant well, but Bellatrix just wasn't the social type. Still, she decided to keep the letter.

The third letter was more to the point. Her rent was due. In fact her rent was also due a week before she would get her salary from the Department. Right now, she was running low on money. Still, she always made do and never wanted to bother her family for it. She promised herself she'd make it on her own after being exiled from the Black household for refusing to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. In the end Andromeda married for love, Cissy for wealth and influence while Bellatrix just… never married at all.

Well, one could make a case for her being married to her work, she supposed.

What she had wasn't much, but it was her own. She looked down at one of the things she had always kept from her past; her Black family signet ring. A ring made of the purest gold and on it was displayed the crest of House Black, the upper half of the shield showed a hand firmly holding a wand, the lower half of the shield displayed three black crows and a skull prominently displayed just above it. She wore it always. Being in exile hadn't taken away the pride she had in her heritage, after all.

After getting home, she realized just how soul-crushingly tired she was. Bellatrix decided to refrain from sitting down on the couch, because there was a sizable chance that if she'd sit down she'd immediately nod off and wouldn't wake up until the next morning. Bed seemed like a good idea.

But first, a drink. She grabbed the decanter of fire-whiskey which was displayed on her dressoir and poured herself a glass. But before putting the glass to her lips, she glanced at the one and only picture in her house.

"Here's to you," she raised the glass and gently tipped the frame, laying the picture face-down to the dressoir. "Sorry, Katie," Bellatrix whispered. "I'm weak, I know."

The soothing liquid slid down her throat and gently warmed her insides. A second cup was quickly poured, but she cut it off there. _Careful, Bella. You don't want to go to sleep drunk again,_ she told herself. She undressed, had a quick wash at the sink and shuffled towards the bedroom.

Her bed, still unmade from this morning, beckoned to her as if it was a siren from legends. Bellatrix tossed herself onto her bed, its bouncy mattress and soft pillow feeling nothing less like blissful heaven. She let out a satisfied groan and had just enough time to pull the duvet over herself before sleep mercifully claimed her.

Gentle, peaceful, dreamless sleep.

And that peaceful slumber was roughly disturbed later during the night by a loud ticking against her bedroom window. Bellatrix let out a groan and buried her head underneath her pillow. However, the owl doing the ticking was less than impressed.

"Bugger it, you bloody bird!" sounded Bellatrix' muffled voice.

_Tick. Tick._

"Just leave it in the box!"

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Keep this up and you'll be put into the curry!"

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

"You're not going to go away, are you?" she asked the owl in the window. The owl did, indeed, not budge.

With an annoyed grunt, Bellatrix threw the duvet off the bed and rushed to the window, fighting the urge to wring the bird's neck.

In fact, it turned out to be one of Magical Homicide's high-speed delivery owls. And, of course, it had a letter for her. A simple, one sentence letter.

"_There's been a murder at Hogwarts. - Jensen._"

* * *

After a brief shower, Bellatrix was ready to go to work. Through the communal floo fireplace at her apartment building, the dark witch found herself standing in the large and spacious entryhall of Hogwarts. To her, Hogwarts was the exact same toilet she had left behind so many years ago. Even the smell was the same; an unpleasant mix of student's tears and liberal measures of owl-shit.

The time was still early and the students would still be asleep. Some of the support staff were running around, however, no doubt alerted to the presence of one of their own lying dead on the floor somewhere.

Hogwarts. There were entirely too many mudbloods and half-bloods here. The trends were clear. Every year, pure-bloods were becoming more and more of a minority. Years ago, she had come to the conclusion that this was an inevitability. But there was no time to dwell on that.

"Don't tell me they decided to send _you_?" sounded from the parapet above. Indeed, there she was, Minerva McGonagall, the bane of her existence when she had attended Hogwarts in her youth. "We're all shocked enough as it is, we don't need _you _adding to our distress."

Bellatrix said nothing, but instead just calmly walked up to the stairs and stared the older witch in the eyes. "I'm here on official business," she said and flashed her badge for a brief moment. Of course, McGonagall already knew she was with Magical Homicides, but Bellatrix couldn't resist rubbing it in to the old hag that she was the one with authority now.

"Yes," McGonagall grit her teeth. "I suppose you are..."

_Hag, _Bellatrix muttered inwardly, an unspoken insult. "I'm not here to trade insults with you, I have a job to do."

"Of course," nodded McGonagall and she motioned for Bellatrix to follow her. As the two walked through the dark halls of Hogwarts, Bellatrix noted they were headed towards the library.

"Who is the victim?" Bellatrix asked, while being delayed by those ridiculous moving staircases.

"Peter Pettigrew, our caretaker," said McGonagall. "He took the job after mister Filch's retirement a few years ago."

"Filch retired?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"Quite suddenly, indeed."

"Hm, interesting," Bellatrix took note of it. "Who found the body?"

"One of the house-elves, Wonky, found him in the library in the middle of the night. The poor thing is still shaken up."

"Please tell me you haven't moved the body," Bellatrix remarked.

"No, of course we haven't," replied McGonagall, apparently insulted. "We immediately contacted the Department and we'll be keeping the library closed for the rest of the day. We don't want the students to see poor mister Pettigrew in this state. He was quite popular among the students."

"Was he now?" the dark witch replied. Though she had never shared tenure at school with him, she had met him through unfortunate encounters with Sirius and had always thought he was more than a bit of an arse. However, that might be presupposition because Pettigrew had always hung out with her idiot cousin; a sure sign of lack of any form of intelligence.

After entering the library, McGonagall led her to where Peter Pettigrew's body was lying. Several servants were standing guard and were quickly shooed away by McGonagall. Immediately, Bellatrix got to work and started her examination. The dark witch knelt down next to the body which lay sprawled on his back in an awkward position. There were several charred patches on his clothes, consistent with the burns of magical impact; the blackened flesh around the impact wounds was also tell-tale sign. There was abject surprise eternally etched on his dead features.

"You didn't expect to be murdered tonight, did you?" Bellatrix whispered. "No, not at all."

"Pardon me, miss Black?" McGonagall asked.

"Nothing. And that's _Detective Chief Inspector_ Black, thank you very much," the dark witch said, took out her wand and muttered a few arcane words. Her wand lit up and she used it to scan the body. There were no magical items upon him, nor any magical residue other than what was coming from the impact wounds. "No wand on him," she muttered and traced the body's outline with her own wand, causing magical energy to glow on the floor.

Bellatrix then studied the position of the body and observed its location. It lay between two stacks of books, in the middle of the library and near one of the northren exits. There was no sign of a struggle, no overturned stacks and not a book was out of place.

"This is damn peculiar," Bellatrix rubbed her chin.

"What is?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm not ready to draw any conclusions just yet," said Bellatrix. "Leave the body undisturbed until the Department photographer gets here. I wish to speak with the house-elf that found him."

* * *

A few minutes later, Bellatrix and McGonagall were sitting in a sideroom of the Hogwarts kitchens. Even though it was still very early, the elves were already hard at work on preparing the morning meal. Lovely smells of freshly baked bread and sugary pastries, roasting bacon and sizzling eggs tickled her nostrils and caused her stomach to rumble slightly. Bellatrix had left home so early she hadn't had any breakfast yet. However, there was no time for that now; the dark witch was face to face with one of the most pathetic looking house-elves she had ever had the misfortune of meeting. The wretched thing was literally shaking and terrified.

"Wonky," spoke McGonagall in a soft tone. "This is Detective Chief Inspector Black from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's here to ask you a couple of questions. You're not in trouble, Wonky, she just wants to talk to you."

Bellatrix wanted to give a lippy response to that drivel, but she figured that might frighten the house-elf into silence. Not very handy when you needed information. A quick flash from her badge seemed to calm the house-elf further.

"I am told you found mister Pettigrew's body?" she asked carefully.

"Y-yes," the house-elf trembled. "Oh, oh, it's so terrible."

"The most obvious question would be what you were doing in the library in the middle of the night."

"Wonky is good servant," said the house-elf. "Professor Flitwick had trouble sleeping, so Wonky prepared a glass of warm milk for him. Through the library is the shortest route from the kitchen to his room. Wonky is a very efficient servant!"

"Why didn't you just apparate?" Bellatrix challenged. "That would be even more efficient."

The house-elf seemed somewhat embarrassed. "Wonky is... not so good at apparating while holding hot liquids. There have been... unfortunate incidents."

Bellatrix nodded. The answer made sense and house-elves were far too pathetic a type of creature to make for effective liars. "Very well. At what time did you pass through the library?"

"Time? Uhmmm..." Wonky seemed to think.

The dark witch rolled her eyes. Talking to a house-elf could be so frustrating. "What numbers were the big hand and the small hand of the clock the pointing at, you little imbecile?"

"Miss Black, please!" McGonagall huffed.

"Wonky thinks it was half past four in the morning."

"Describe to me how found the body?"

"Wonky heard a sound coming from the darkness, so Wonky asked who was there. When no one answered Wonky, Wonky went to look and found poor mister Pettigrew lying on the ground."

Bellatrix bit her lip. "Truly? You heard someone? Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure can be, detective Black," said Wonky. "Wonky has very good hearing. Wonky heard people running away."

"People?" said Bellatrix as she crossed her arms. "As in... more than one person?"

"Many footsteps, detective Black. More footsteps than one person can make. Wonky could not tell how many, just more than one. Wonky is very sorry she is not more helpful."

"On the contrary," said Bellatrix. "You've been very helpful, Wonky. You may leave now."

The compliment caused insane joy in the house-elf, something which Bellatrix found to be even more pathetic. Once the house-elf had finally buggered off, Bellatrix leaned against the wall. "Well. Time for some serious interrogation, I guess."

"Miss Black," started McGonagall. "While I understand the need for a thorough investigation in this unfortunate matter, I do not wish the students to be exposed to this any more than is necessary."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "McGonagall, this is a murder investigation and I am the officer in charge. I don't care how many students I have to interrogate to get to the truth of the matter. I will question every student at Hogwarts if I have to and you will make the arrangements for me."

With delight, Bellatrix noted the seething frustration on McGonagall's face. "If you unnecessarily bother my students, I..."

Bellatrix stepped forward, a dangerous light flashing in her dark eyes. "I will bother your students when I please and as I see fit! If you, on the other hand, do anything to impede my investigation, I swear to you that you'll regret it. Or maybe... you have something to hide, perhaps?"

It was a hollow accusation and Bellatrix knew it, but it had served its purpose. McGonagall was seething as the two women stared each other in the face, neither of them budging an inch. McGonagall was not used to being rebuked by a Slytherin, something Bellatrix took great pleasure in knowing.

"You were always a troublemaker, miss Black," McGonagall spoke with barely contained anger. "I see that has not changed."

"See how much I care. Now go wake up your students! I have questions!" she said as she walked away, allowing a broad grin cross her features at the thought of having ticked off McGonagall. Just like she done had so many times when she had been a student at Hogwarts. Some things, apparently, never changed.


	2. CSI Hogwarts

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 2: CSI Hogwarts_

Under protest, McGonagall provided Bellatrix with a list of current students with some minor annotations and most of the morning was spent asking questions to a myriad of them. During the questionings, she had received a note from one of the house-elves that constables from the Department had arrived to secure the library as a crime scene and search for evidence. She'd let them do their jobs and check in with them later.

As was usual with a mass canvas, the great majority of her conversations had been unfruitful. However, there were a few interesting facts she had learned about Pettigrew; he was indeed popular, but it seemed he was most popular with troublemakers and misfits, which was an interesting fact in itself. Then there were some leads which brought her to question the Gryffindor student now sitting in front of her.

Like with all the others, the interviews had been held in an empty classroom. It was always best to put people at ease for an investigative interview; they were more calm or more prone to let things slip when they were in a familiar environment, after all. The student she would be questioning was a seventh year Gryffindor named Harry Potter. He seemed harmless enough; reasonably tall lad, black hair, glasses. He was the spitting image of his father, someone she also had the misfortune of meeting through encounters with her cousin Sirius. Potter seemed to study Bellatrix's every move when she paced around the room.

"Now, mister Potter," started Bellatrix as she stood in front of him and crossed her arms. "I just want to ask you some questions. To clarify things. In understand you were the last person to see mister Pettigrew alive."

"That's right," Potter replied. "I went to talk to him last night before lights-out."

"What was it that you wanted to discuss with him?"

"I... I just wanted to ask him to tell me some stories about my father," Potter said.

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Your father?"

Potter shook his head. "I know that might sound strange, but dad won't talk about his time at Hogwarts all that much. I, well, I think he's a bit embarrassed about it, because I'm told he was a bit of a terror. Mister Pettigrew was a friend of my father, so I've been pestering him for stories ever so often."

"_Was_ a friend of your father?" Bellatrix asked, latching on to a potentially interesting detail.

Potter nodded. "I... am not really sure what happened. There was a falling out, but dad never told me why."

"Was mister Pettigrew forthcoming with any stories?" asked Bellatrix.

"Usually, yeah," Potter shrugged. "But only in trade. So I used to smuggle beer in from Hogsmeade which I'd trade with him for stories. Mister Pettigrew loved his alcohol."

"Indeed?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "And did you make such a trade last night?"

"Yes, I did," said Potter. "But because it was already late, he promised to tell me the story this morning. I guess... he never will now."

Bellatrix rubbed her chin. There was something off about this whole thing. Something about Potter's tone of voice which didn't sound right; he didn't speak of Pettigrew with any sort of affection one might expect for a family friend, or even an ex-family friend, with stories to tell. It wasn't anything concrete, but it had certainly raised her suspicions.

"May I ask where you were between four and five o'clock this morning?" Bellatrix asked.

Potter blanched slightly. "I... am I a suspect?"

"No," said Bellatrix, but she took note of his reaction. "Why would you think that?"

"Because that's a line that's in every single police movie I've ever seen," Potter replied.

Bellatrix snorted. "Movies? That's Muggle tripe, mister Potter. Don't waste my time with that nonsense."

Apparently, her dismissive attitude towards Muggles and their culture hit a chord with Potter, as the comment had obviously angered him. Honestly, Bellatrix couldn't care less. "This is not some insipid Muggle fantasy, mister Potter. I assure you, this is very, very real."

"I know that!" Potter replied harshly.

"Mister Potter?" Bellatrix asked. "You have been agitated ever since you came in. Do you have a problem with me?"

Potter looked away, his resolve weakening somewhat. "It's just that... my uncle Sirius warned me about you."

"Did he now?" Bellatrix smirked at the mention of her cousin's name.

"He said that you hate Muggle-borns and half-bloods," he spoke. "That you made the lives of Muggle-born students miserable when you were at Hogwarts. He warned me to stay away from you. He... said..." Potter fell silent for a moment.

"Well," Bellatrix chuckled. "Don't leave me in suspense, mister Potter."

"He said... that you are a miserable and evil woman who loves to make life difficult for other people," Potter hung his head low, apparently realizing he had let slip something he wasn't supposed to have said.

Bellatrix shook her head. "My idiot cousin Sirius. Still full of shit, just like I remember him."

That caused another pang of anger across Potter's face. His nose flared just briefly enough to be barely noticed. "It is true, isn't it?" Potter asked. "The first thing, I mean. That you hate Muggle-borns."

The dark witch sat down on a chair and looked Harry in the eye. "Shades of grey," she shook her head.

"Excuse me?" Potter frowned.

"Shades of grey," Bellatrix repeated with a somewhat bitter edge on her voice. "The things you don't see when you're young and stupid."

"That's not an answer," Potter challenged.

"No, it isn't! It's also irrelevant!" Bellatrix snapped. "I go where the evidence leads, mister Potter, regardless of any level of blood purity involved. And I don't appreciate my professionalism being questioned. Do I make myself clear, mister Potter?"

"Crystal," replied Potter, a stony expression on his face.

"Good," Bellatrix replied coldly. "Now, shall we go back to my previous question?"

"Where I was between four and five o'clock?" Potter laughed. "In bed. Sleeping. Where else would I be?"

There was a certain flippancy in Potter's answer. Bellatrix ignored it; false bravado was not something she appreciated.

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"My roommate Ron Weasley can. But he was sleeping too."

"I see," Bellatrix said. "So basically_ nobody_ can confirm where you were during four and five o'clock in the morning?"

Potter sputtered slightly. "H-how would I... E-everbody was sleeping!"

"Except the person who murdered mister Pettigrew," Bellatrix spoke. "That will be all for now, mister Potter. I will call for you if I have further questions."

Bellatrix watched Potter as he left the room; the boy couldn't get away from the classroom quick enough, really. Something wasn't right here.

The next person in the chair was Ronald Weasley, Harry's friend and roommate. The young Weasley lad was nervous as all hell and twiddled his thumbs in a compulsory manner. "Am I in trouble, madam police officer Black?" asked the Weasley boy.

"No, mister Weasley," said Bellatrix. "And it's _Detective Chief Inspector _Black. I simply want to ask you some questions. I just spoke to your friend mister Potter about mister Pettigrew and I want to clear some things up."

"Oh. Okay. Makes sense. I guess. What do you want to know?" he stammered.

Bellatrix took note of his nervousness. Now, she knew from experience that perfectly innocent people could be nervous during a questioning, and she had certainly encountered more than a few this morning, including a plucky Ravenclaw girl called miss Lovegood whom had accused her of being in league with something called Heliopaths. But what the boy in front of her was showing was a whole new league of nervousness; he was sweating like a pig.

"Mister Potter mentioned that he would often trade alcoholic beverages with mister Pettigrew for stories," Bellatrix said.

"Did he? Oh, I guess he did," the Weasley-boy said.

Bellatrix frowned and decided to press the advantage. "Truly? Did he not share these stories with you? His trusted friend and roommate?"

The Weasley-boy nodded vigorously as he unwittingly took the bait. "Oh yes, he tells them all the time. Can't sleep at night because he won't shut up about them. Never and ever and never."

Bellatrix let a corner of her mouth curl upward for just a moment as she came up with an idea. "Indeed, mister Potter told me he often traded beers for stories. Pettigrew would tell him about wizards of olden times. I understand he was quite the storyteller."

"Oh, yes," the Weasley-boy smiled broadly. "Harry'd come back with all kind of stories about great wizards like Merlin and Morgana LaFey and Salazar Slytherin and even about James Randi! Did you know he lives in the Muggle world now? Kept me up all night with his stories."

"Truly?" Bellatrix frowned. "All night? So you were awake between four and five o'clock this morning?"

The Weasley-boy shrugged. "Yeah. Might have gotten some sleep in earlier, but it's been a very strange night... what with Harry talking my ears off and everything."

Bellatrix nodded. The Weasley-boy had walked right into her trap; she'd caught the him in an inconsistency. Something was definitely up here. She asked some more questions to wrap things up, but only got some basic inanity for her troubles. Seeing as the Weasley-boy was now useless, she called in the next student.

The next person who came before her was a lot more interesting, though. A young woman named Hermione Granger. The moment she entered the room, Bellatrix could feel her distress. Miss Granger kept her gaze downcast ever since entering the room, refusing to meet her eyes. While she sat down on the chair provided for her, Bellatrix did a quick review of the person in front of her; according to the list provided by McGonagall, miss Granger was the resident genius, having recently excelled at all her NEWTS, breaking long-standing academic records in the process.

Granger wasn't a wizarding name she remembered. A quick check in her field-guidebook showed her that the name 'Granger' didn't appear on any recent magical genealogies at all. The girl was a mudblood. An obviously very talented mudblood, but a mudblood nonetheless. Of course, Bellatrix was professional enough to realize calling someone out as a mudblood wasn't a good way to pump information from someone, so she decided to keep things civil. Not surprisingly, miss Granger had been born in 1979. That would mean miss Granger was close to turning nineteen, making her almost a full year older than the two boys she had spoken with before. Typical mudblood gene deficiency, really. Her magic must have awakened rather late.

In spite of her deplorable blood status, she was a lovely young woman with long bushy brown hair cascading off her shoulders. Truthfully, she looked awfully cute sitting there, tying her fingers in knots nervously as she did. The dark witch figured she might as well give the girl a break... within limits, naturally. But then again, Bellatrix knew she had always been a sucker for a pretty face.

The girl finally looked at her; she had beautiful brown eyes.

"Calm yourself, miss Granger," Bellatrix started. "You're looking at me as if I'm about to torture you. I just want to ask you a couple of questions."

The mudblood girl nodded nervously. "Y-yes, of course. I'm just... still a bit shocked. Mister Pettigrew, murdered. It's just horrible."

"I understand you knew mister Pettigrew."

Miss Granger seemed to think for a moment. "Not exactly."

"Oh?" Bellatrix cocked her head sideways while leafing through her notebook. "Several students have told me you have been seen talking to him on several occasions as recently as two days ago."

Bellatrix took note of the sharp intake of breath the mudblood took upon hearing this statement. "Well, I didn't really _know_ him, I suppose. It's just... I was getting to know him and then... this tragedy happened."

"I see," Bellatrix nodded. "Why were you talking to mister Pettigrew, if I may ask? From what I've been told, he wasn't exactly intellectually simulating."

Miss Granger seemed to think for a moment. "I am working on an examination of the role of Hogwarts in shaping magical society as one of my graduation thesis papers and I wanted his input."

Bellatrix blinked. "I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly? _One_ of your graduation thesis paper_s_? Exactly how many are you working on?"

"Five."

"Bloody hell!" Bellatrix raised both her eyebrows.

"I get that reaction more often."

"So why did you go to mister Pettigrew?" asked Bellatrix, not wanting to be sidetracked by the mudblood's academic achievements. "I'm sure there are more knowledgeable people on that subject. Professors McGonagall and Snape. Head master Dumbledore."

"Yes, and they've all been a great help, but, they are, uhm, how do I put this diplomatically? They are, uh, well, _successful_ people," said Hermione.

Bellatrix could barely contain a snort as miss Granger's opinion of Pettigrew became suddenly quite clear. "So, you were looking for more, ahum, varied sources for your research? A view from the galley, as it were."

"He was ever so helpful," miss Granger said. "He's has... or, had, a unique perspective on things."

"Did your friends mister Weasley and mister Potter help you with your research?" Bellatrix asked.

The mudblood bit her lip nervously. "They certainly did."

"Didn't mister Pettigrew want you to trade him something for his input?" asked Bellatrix.

"Oh, no, he was only too happy to help," miss Granger nodded.

_Another inconsistency. Two, in fact_. Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "I see. Interesting. Do you spend much time at the library?"

"Of course," said the mudblood, offering a blissful smile. "It's like my second home here at Hogwarts."

_Cute smile too_, Bellatrix took note. "So you would say you know your way around the library quite well?"

"Of course," said miss Granger. "Why do you ask?"

"I am wondering why someone like mister Pettigrew would be in the library at night," said Bellatrix. "By your own admission, he was not a very successful wizard. In fact, it seems the man barely passed his final exams. Do you have an answer why he might have been there, in the middle of the night, no less."

The mudblood bit her lip. "Well, I suppose he might have wanted to read in private. Or maybe he wanted to meet someone."

Bellatrix cocked her eyes sideways. "Why would you say that?"

A brief pang of panic shot through miss Granger's eyes before she composed herself. Her eyes were downcast as she answered. "I, uhm, well, I have... heard that sometimes... students like to have, ahum,_ liaisons_ at the library at night."

Bellatrix let out a brief laugh. "Shagging between the bookstacks?! My, my, this place hasn't changed a bit. Though when I was attending school, we preferred the astronomy tower."

Miss Granger's cheeks were bright red now. "That's... just what I've heard, though."

Truly, Bellatrix doubted that she had just heard it, but didn't want to press too much. Besides, she was ever cuter when she was embarrassed. _Cute for a mudblood, that is._

"Did mister Pettigrew have a relationship with one of the staff?" said Bellatrix. "Or even a student? Is that what you're implying?"

There was an almost imperceptible nod from the girl, which had obvious meaning for Bellatrix: Not only was the girl a mudblood, but she was also a horrible, horrible liar. The pitch of her voice had changed completely and she refused to meet her eyes, looking at the floor instead.

For a while, Bellatrix said nothing. She just paced through the room. The sound of her boots on the stone floor echoed through the chamber while Hermione followed her through the room with her eyes. The dark witch took a chair, shifted it and sat down. Her face was so close to the mudblood's that the girl got rather uncomfortable and didn't know where to look. "Miss Granger," Bellatrix started, trying to sound as neutral and calm as possible. "Why are you lying to me?"

The mudblood let out a brief gasp. Not a gasp of outrage for being accused, but a gasp someone would make when their mother had caught them red-handed with their hand still in the cookie jar.

"I'm not lying! I'm not!" the mudblood replied just a little too desperately. "It's just... I wasn't sure and I don't want to slander anyone," said miss Granger.

The mudblood definitely knew more than she was letting on. Bellatrix made it a point to question the girl again when she had learned more. Making a move too early might cause the mudblood to clamp shut. Right now, she was satisfied with just having the mudblood girl with her back to the wall, as it were.

"I see. Well, you certainly provided me with a new perspective," nodded Bellatrix, deciding to let the mudblood off the hook for now. "Thank you, miss Granger, that will be all. If there is anything that you remember, please let me know."

The mudblood seemed satisfied with this and happily took her leave after thanking Bellatrix. It left the dark witch with a lot to ponder indeed. These last three had been acting rather suspicious and their stories were rife with inconsistencies. The dark witch decided to call off any further inquiries for today, but there was one person she still wanted to talk to. One more person she'd needed to see.

Soon afterwards, Bellatrix found herself in the dungeons of Slytherin House, her old stomping grounds. She found that not much changed, but really, what was there to change about a dungeon? A fresh lick of paint here, a new painting there, but that was basically it. By now, it was around noon and most students were done with their morning classes. As such, there were plenty of green-clad young Slytherins mulling about the hallways. Interestingly enough, a lot of them seemed to be wearing Purity Front badges rather openly.

Getting into the common room was been easy enough; flipping out her badge near the stone wall had been enough to compel the passage to reveal itself. The common room was still the same; a case containing Quidditch trophies seemed like a recent addition, some banners depicting medieval Slytherins and even a house-point counting board, while several windows revealed the cold water of the lake beyond. Some comfortable leather seats and a few booths for private conversations lined the wall and in the middle was a luxurious sitting area with lazy couches. It was there where she found her target or, rather, her target found her.

"Aunt Bellatrix!" she heard the enthusiastic voice of Draco as the young blonde wizard waved at her.

"Bloody hell, I still can't get over that you're such a beanpole, sweetie," said Bellatrix as she and her nephew shared a brief hug. "How's my favorite nephew doing?"

"I'm your only nephew," Draco smirked.

Bellatrix winked. "That means you win by default."

The two of them took a seat in one of the private booth. A charm had been put upon it which would allow the two to talk in private.

"Are you coming over to the manor during the summer break, auntie?" Draco asked, almost hopeful. Truly, young Draco was genuinely happy to see her. _That makes one person,_ Bellatrix thought to herself.

"I'm not sure yet, but I still have a month or two to think about it," said Bellatrix. If Draco was disappointed, he didn't show it. Of course, ever since the boy had been young, he had always drilled her for the gory details of her work and to Cissy's dismay, she had always provided. "A lot of Purity Front badges being worn here, by the way. I didn't realize the Front was popular among young people."

"Yeah, it's somewhat of a fad, really," Draco shrugged. "I don't expect it to last."

"Not part of the Front yourself?" asked Bellatrix. "I don't see you wearing a badge."

Draco shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, mudbloods suck hippogriff-bollocks. But some of the things those Purity Front tossers say are just... stupid."

"And you don't want to be associated with stupidity," Bellatrix finished for him. "Good lad."

"It's not just that," Draco said. "These people that are in the Front... it's like some sort of weird cult."

During the conversation, Bellatrix couldn't help but notice Draco's eyes darting to the side ever so often, in the general direction of a raven-haired girl with a bob-cut. The girl was pretty enough and was talking to some other students. A Purity Front badge adorned the front of her robe.

"Girlfriend?" Bellatrix asked. "Is she the girl would were talking about all summer last year?"

This made Draco laugh a bit uncomfortably. "No, no, Pansy's just... just a friend. I'm trying to convince her to quit the Front, but so far I'm not having much luck."

"Indeed?" Bellatrix frowned. "Why do you want her to quit the Front?"

"I told you that the Front is like a weird cult, right?" Draco huffed. "Pansy is one of the smartest girls of our year, she's a prefect of Slytherin and the Front has her wasting her precious free time handing out pamphlets on the streets of Hogsmeade because they ordered her to! That's just not right. And it makes me wonder what else they are going to order her to do. I need to get her out of there, aunt Bellatrix."

"Is she trying to get you to join?" asked Bellatrix.

"Of course," Draco snorted. "But I'm not biting. Nobody's going to tell _me_ what to do."

"Good lad."

"It's just frustrating, that's all," Draco sighed. "It's much harder than it was to convince Pans to quit smoking."

Pansy was apparently the kind of girl who got herself in trouble and had found somewhat of a guardian angel in Draco. It was clear to Bellatrix that Draco was really worried about this girl Pansy and dead-set that the Front was not be a good thing for her to be part of. Draco seemed eager for a change of subject, however, so Bellatrix decided not to press the issue.

"It's nice of you to visit, auntie," Draco said. "I heard about Pettigrew getting himself done in, but I'm glad you took the time to stop by."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd help me with my investigation."

Draco's eyes positively lit up at this prospect. "I swear, getting himself murdered is the most exciting thing ole ratface has ever done with his life."

"Ole ratface? Is that what you call him?" Bellatrix asked.

"Most of the Slytherins do, yeah," Draco chuckled. Bellatrix found this blunt approach refreshing as the Gryffindors she had interviewed had been mostly evasive or excruciatingly polite.

"He wasn't popular with the students, then?" she asked.

"Only in so far as he was useful," Draco shrugged.

_Interesting,_ Bellatrix thought and vowed to return to this topic later. "I've had an intriguing interview with three particular Gryffindor students."

"Let me guess, Potter, the Weasel-boy and Muddy the Mudblood?" Draco rolled his eyes.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Do you call her that to her face?"

"Absolutely!" Draco beamed proudly. "Potter and Weasel are mostly annoying, but Granger is just insane."

"But _cute_," Bellatrix grinned and only caught herself when Draco was looking at her strangely. Had she just said that out loud? "Forget I said anything, please go on."

"Not much more to tell, really," he snorted. "Little annoying know-it-all. Did you know she founded an organization for house-elf rights? She calls it SPEW. Certainly makes me spew to think about it."

_Ah, an idealist_, Bellatrix thought and filed that away as useful information. "SPEW, ey? Bit of an unfortunate name. Tell me, is miss Granger involved with one of those two boys?" asked Bellatrix.

Draco shrugged. "Granger used to have a thing for Weasel, but they broke up some two years ago. Never knew why and never really cared. There wasn't any argument or anything exciting like that. She's probably too busy studying to be involved with anyone, really. A regular bookworm. There's some rumors floating around, but I never pay much attention to those."

"Say, about Pettigrew..."

Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"There's something you know, don't you?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"Not sure if should tell you. Nobody likes a snitch, you see? Especially in Slytherin," Draco offered an apologetic grin.

Bellatrix couldn't just let this go, however. "Oh come now, we're just an aunt and her nephew having a private conversation. And it might help me with my investigation. Don't you want to help me?"

Oh, she was manipulating him and she knew it. However, it had the desired effect. Draco's eyes lit up; he was quite eager to help his favorite aunt. "I promise I'll never mention your name in any of my reports."

"Oh, alright, then," Draco leant forward. "Ole ratface had an entire black market set up. He could get you anything. Polyjuice, illegal charms, potions, Muggle artifacts... it never ended. You wanted it, he could get it. No questions asked, as long as you had the money."

Now this was interesting information and Bellatrix was certain to pay attention. "Slytherin still has its own black market, doesn't it?" she asked. In her days, the black markets were run by the students and not by the staff. Times had certainly changed.

"Of course we do," Draco said.

"So Pettigrew was competition," Bellatrix frowned.

"Do you think... one of Slytherin?"

"No," said Bellatrix as she put her finger to her lips. "The money that goes on in these small-time black markets is too little to warrant murdering someone. Too great a risk, too little pay-off. But it does put some things in perspective."

"So... I helped?" Draco asked eagerly.

"Yes, my lad," Bellatrix clapped Draco on the shoulder. "That you did."

After saying goodbye to Draco, the dark witch still had one last matter to take care of: a search of Pettigrew's office and quarters. The office was quickly searched and found to be relatively clean, if a little disorderly Really, she wasn't expecting to find much there, since not even Pettigrew would be stupid enough run an illegal business from his work office. No, his stash would be somewhere else. As the records he kept for his work, reports about students and the like, didn't seem to be out of order, she decided there was nothing of worth here. After sealing the office door with a charm, she made her way to the second floor where Pettigrew held his quarters.

The quarters were small and even more messy than her own apartment, though at least there weren't empty take-out boxes lying about. Clothes were strewn across the ground, and dirty plates in dire need of cleaning littered the lone table. Bellatrix grimaced; searching this place would be 'fun'. This dingy room was hardly a place where Pettigrew would hide his stash, though she did find a few illegal items in a trunk next to his unkempt bed. One item in particular caught her eye; half a bottle of Insoma. Insoma was a potion intended for medical emergencies which required the patient to stay awake for long times. It would make the person taking it feel energized and would completely eliminate the need for sleep. However, the potion was dangerously addictive and thus strictly regulated.

_So, a scoundrel, a liar, a smuggler and a junkie_._ Hogwarts should really sharpen their hiring policies_, Bellatrix thought.

After bagging the items for evidence, Bellatrix started a more thorough search.

"Hello, what's this?" she muttered to herself when she saw an item which was particularly out of place. A wand had apparently rolled underneath the bed; none but the most absent-minded of wizards would lose their wands in this way and she had to wonder what the circumstances were which led it to end up down there. She put the wand on the table and took out her own. "Prior Incantato," she chanted, hoping to reveal the last spell it had cast. It was a relatively minor hex; something which would definitely hurt, but would certainly not be lethal. It was also a hex which would definitely not be allowed to be used on students, however.

So far, the pickings had been rather slim. She carefully collected Pettigrew's wand and placed it in an evidence bag. For the moment, it would find a home in her long coat.

Pettigrew kept no diaries and the few books here were all work-related. Not much to find here right now. She concluded that his stash had to be somewhere else still. It was then that she heard a knock at the door; Wonky the house-elf wanted her attention.

"Uhm, excuse me, miss officer Black, the constables from the Department are ready to take care of poor mister Pettigrew's body."

Bellatrix nodded. That meant the constables were ready with their work. After sealing the room behind her with a charm, she made her way to the library to oversee the procedures. The grand double doors leading into the library were in sight when she spotted someone approaching them from the side-corridor. Bellatrix stopped in her tracks and observed for a moment.

The person in question was the bushy-haired mudblood she had met earlier today, miss Granger. She stopped in front of the double doors, now sealed by a lit up yellow ribbon. However, a ribbon was not about to deter her. The young mudblood grabbed the knob of the door to get inside the library anyway, and immediately a loud alarm sounded.

Miss Granger was startled, not only by the sound, but also a second ribbon which appeared right in front of her face. 'CRIME SCENE', it read 'INVESTIGATION IN PROGRESS. DO NOT ENTER. YOU WILL NOT BE WARNED AGAIN.'

The young mudblood seemed downright huffy about being denied access to the library. For a moment, Bellatrix thought that she was going to stamp her foot down in frustration. She didn't, though, and rather spun around on her heels and stomped off.

_Indeed. Very cute... for a mudblood._

The spell on the door did grant Bellatrix access and she found four uniformed constables from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol mulling about the library. McGonagall was here as well, watching the constables work with unrelenting scrutiny.

Of course she did. _Hag!_

Bellatrix approached the constables. While one of them was taking photographs of the body, the three others were just finishing up scanning the library with their wands. "DCI Black," nodded one of the constables.

"Find anything conclusive, Toby?" Bellatrix asked as she crossed her arms and did her best to completely ignore McGonagall's existence.

The constable shook his head. "Nothing but the usual background magic. Some residue of minor spells, mostly prank hexes you expect to find in a school, as well as some permanent spells to protect books from decay and student vandalism. I'm afraid I have nothing out of the ordinary to report."

"I see," Bellatrix nodded. _Of course the results are inconclusive. That would be too easy, now wouldn't it?_ "I expect an official report on my desk this afternoon. I'll sign off your orders to move the body to the morgue."

"Yes, DCI Black," the constable nodded. After the photographer had done her business, the Department constables covered the body and carried it away on a stretcher.

Instantly, that annoying hag McGonagall was upon her. "Do you really have to parade poor mister Pettigrew's body across the entire school?! Why, the students could..."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and snapped her head towards the older professor. "You know as well as I do that apparating the body will wipe out any traces of magical residue still on it. Besides, he's covered with a sheet. Are you students really such delicate creatures that they can't handle the sight of an outline underneath a white cloth?"

"Well, I..."

"You_ will _keep the library, Pettigrew's office and his quarters sealed until further notice."

McGonagall blinked. "I understand keeping the library closed for a day is prudent, but any longer than that... How do you expect a school to function without a library?"

"That's not my problem now, is it?" Bellatrix allowed a smirk to creep across her features. "This library is a crime scene until further notice. Deal with it! I'll be back tomorrow."

For the second time today, she walked away from the seething McGonagall with a mad grin on her face. It was time to return to the office to review her findings.


	3. Murder-book

Hello all,

Though I will normally post new chapters on Saturday, today I had a day off work and thus some extra time to prepare a new chapter.

It was pointed out to me that I have forgotten to respond the (semi)-anonymous reviews. Of course, I must rectify this.

**Vayentha09 (15/2 and 11/2)**: Glad you're enjoying the story. Plenty more is to come.

**Mandy (11/2)**: I'm happy you like this AU Bellatrix. Updates will be once a week, depending on my work schedule.

**Guest (15/2)** wrote "You kept saying mudblood to many times. Felt kinda insulting to read really.": Well, that's rather the point, isn't it? The story is from Bellatrix's perspective and thus the readers are in Bellatrix's head. Bellatrix's head isn't always a very nice place to be. :) Basically, it's Bellatrix showing her prejudice.

**Guest (18/2)** wrote "Need more soon! Such a good story.": Thank you! More is to come.

And with that, on with the story. Hope you'll enjoy.

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 3: Murder-book_

The Magical Homicides office was located on the second level of the Ministry of Magic, just down the hall of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts sub-department and nestled in next to the Investigation Department, as both those sub-departments often shared resources. Fortunately for Bellatrix's sensibilities, Magical Homicides enjoyed quite a bit more prestige than Misuse of Muggle Artifacts.

The sound of her boots echoed through the hall as she headed towards her office after fetching a cup of coffee. As it was the middle of day still, she found all her colleagues at work. Not hard at work, but definitely at work. Most of them were chatting, in fact, and took a moment to greet Bellatrix. The dark witch tossed her long leather coat over the rack and tossed her notes on her desk. There'd be plenty of write-up to do. In five-fold. After all, the Department loved its paperwork.

She put down her coffee and emptied five packets of sugar into it. After stirring, she gulped down the sickeningly sweet concoction, feeling energized and wide awake. Ready for paperwork.

Before heading down to the office, she had booked the items she found in Pettigrew's room into evidence, but had decided to hang on to his wand for the time being. She was about to start filling out the appropriate forms per item booked, but her lovely colleagues were not about to let her work in peace.

"Stiff at Hogwarts, ey?" asked Petunia Hearthgood, who had the desk next to her. Short and rotund, the middle-aged women made every bit the impression of being a nice and disarming. However, looks could be deceiving. Petunia could be tenacious and merciless when it came to solving a case.

"Hey, and here I thought you liked a big stiffy, Bella!" called over Jimmy Richards, another detective. He was an American wizard whom had traveled to the UK and had decided to stick around for whatever reason. Originally from Chicago, Jimmy was the youngest member of Magical Homicides.

Bellatrix snorted as she sat down. "Bugger you, Jimmy."

Jimmy Richards clutched his heart. "Oh, if only!"

Bellatrix smirked and followed her barb up with a two-fingered salute.

Another detective, an elderly overweight wizard named Bombur Whiskersnap, shook his head in disdain. "I swear, young people have no class these days." There was a sprinkle in his eye when he said it, though, as Bombur often held up a facade of proper appearance while being ruder than the whole lot of them combined. His shaggy beard reached hung down to his large belly, and both were the reason why he played the role of Father Christmas for the children of the Department officers during the Yule-time office celebration every year.

"We do have class, Bombur," Bellatrix winked. "It's just a tad lower than your lofty standards."

"Less class, more crass!" Petunia chuckled.

"Oh, I took care of your paperwork for the Flint kid case, Bella," said Richards. "Didn't have much work to do, really, your notes were very thorough."

"Ta very much," Bellatrix nodded. "And no, I'm still not going to shag you."

"Awww," Richards chuckled.

"Any suspects yet, Bells?" asked Petunia.

Bellatrix shook her head. "It's too early to link her to the murder, but I've got an eye on this mudblood girl. Cute as a button, but she's definitely hiding something."

Of course, as expected, that bloody yank Richards latched onto her words like a tick to a dog. "Ooooh!" he hugged himself and started singing somewhat off-key. "_Love is the air, everywhere I look around..."_

The dark witch grumbled and would have none of it. "Shut it, Richards," she snapped. "She's a suspect, you git. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bombur scraped his voice. "You _did_ say she was cute."

Bellatrix shrugged. "It's alright to look, I suppose. Even if the girl is a mudblood." Seriously, after working with these people for over a decade, they'd certainly come to know about her opinions on blood-purity, as well as her preference for women. They had mostly come to terms with her blood-purity issues, but as for her preference for women... there certainly had been plenty of ill-fated attempts to match her up with sisters, female friends, distant relatives or lonely colleagues. Fortunately, that seemed to have stopped for the time being. Threats of extreme violence usually helped with that.

"So," Bombur winked. "Did she have a nice bum?"

"Bombur," Bellatrix sighed in frustration. "She's a _mudblood_."

For the corner of her eyes, she could see the elderly wizard taking off his glasses. This made her sigh; she knew what must coming. Seriously, she'd heard it all before. Why wouldn't Bombur just give up?

"Must you really keep using that word, Bella?" the kindly old wizard asked. "Muggle-born is much more socially acceptable."

Bellatrix bristled slightly. "I call them mudbloods, because that's what they _are, _Bombur. It's just a word, nothing more. I don't go for this whole political-correctness thing. If the wittle ittle bittle babies get their wittle feelings hurt," she said while making a pouty face. "Then that's _their_ problem, not mine. They should grow a spine."

Petunia chuckled for a moment. "Come on, Bombie. You've been trying to get Bells to stop saying the m-word for years. At some point you just have to give up."

"Eh, just thinking about my wife," shrugged the kindly old wizard. "She's a Muggle-born, you all know that."

"You hate your wife, Bombur!" Bellatrix snapped. "Just last week you were telling us how much you'd love it if she'd just drown in the bathtub!"

"Indeed I do," said Bombur. "But I hate her because she's a bitch, not because she's a Muggle-born. However," he suddenly grinned. "I've sort of veered away from my original question: so did that Muggle-born girl have a nice bum, Bella?"

The dark witch let out an annoyed grunt. "Why do I even keep talking to you lot?!"

"Because of our charming personalities?" Petunia tried.

Just as the banter turned towards even more raunchy subjects, which might or might not contained remarks about the size of enchanted melons and bananas, Jensen stepped out of his office. "Trix, got a moment?"

Under the chorus of catcalls from her colleagues, Bellatrix entered Jensen's office and closed the door behind her. Jensen was looking at her intently from behind his desk. "Sorry to interrupt your engaging conversation about magical fruit cocktails. Two things. First of all, I got a letter of complaint from one Minerva McGonagall about your 'appalling behaviour'. Making friends, I see."

Bellatrix sighed. "Of course, she did. Hag!"

Jensen held up his hand. "I've already prepared a standard bullshit letter to placate her. I actually have a template specifically tailored for you."

"Ta very much, mum," Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "So, what was the other thing?"

Jensen tossed a stack of papers onto his desk. "The press has already gotten wind of it."

"Goddammit!" Bellatrix swore as picked up the Daily Prophet and read the headline. _Heinous Homicide at Hogwarts; Magical Homicides on the Case_. Though, in all honestly, she wasn't surprised; it was hard to keep something like this a secret in a place as public as Hogwarts. Hell, even the Quibbler headlined with it, though Bellatrix considered they'd probably claim the murder had been committed by aliens. Still, the Quibbler was mostly harmless, but getting Rita Skeeter on her arse was something Bellatrix could live without.

"Something to keep in mind," Jensen said. "Please do me a favor and _be nice to the press_! I really don't want another PR disaster like we had last time. I'm sure you remember the reporter from The Sunday Gryphon you sent flying across the room."

_Really?! Must Jensen bring this up time and again?!_

"He _touched_ me!" Bellatrix hissed. It was the same defense she had always given to that particular incident.

Jensen sighed heavily. "He tapped you on the shoulder to attract your attention..."

"Oh, he got my attention, alright," Bellatrix snorted.

"... that still doesn't warrant a high-level stupify to the face at point blank range!" Jensen replied. "I had to call in so many favors to keep the brass from suspending you!"

Bellatrix grumbled; she had to admit she owed Jensen for that one. "Alright, fine," Bellatrix shook her head. "I'll be a good little girl, mum."

"Good," nodded Jensen. "Now, you might want to go home early today, seeing I've rustled you out of bed in the middle of the night."

"Paperwo..." Bellatrix started, but Jensen cut her off.

"Trix," he said and leant forward showing off that knowing grin of his. "What did you have for lunch today?"

Bellatrix sighed heavily; she already knew what his reaction was going to be. "A chocolate bar from the candy dispenser," she droned.

"I rest my case. Just do the basics, then go home, get some proper food down your gob and get some rest. Oh, and comb that unruly mop of yours while you're at it. Seriously, you need to take better care of yourself."

Bellatrix sighed in defeat. There was no arguing with Jensen; once he got this protective of his people, he'd never let up. "Yes... mum," she sighed as she slinked away from Jensen's desk.

"And don't let me catch you stretching for time! Go home!" Jensen called out after her.

After some more chatting with her colleagues, Bellatrix finally got to work. After filling out the appropriate forms for the bookings of her evidence, signing off on an autopsy request and reading the comprehensive, yet inconclusive report the constables had prepared for her. The photographs of Pettigrew's body were delivered just as Bellatrix started putting together her 'murder-book', which would encapsulate the entire paper trail of her case, from time of murder to the, hopefully, eventual arrest of a suspect.

Bellatrix took out her notebook and started to transcribe her quickly scribbled notes into a proper report. What she had so far was the corpse of a shady groundskeeper who'd been running a black market on the side lying the library, with the added detail that he wand was in his room on the other side of the school. The canvas of the students had been mostly fruitless, other than three rather suspicious seven years which were certainly linked to Pettigrew on a superficial level at least. Still, that wasn't a crime in itself and Bellatrix currently lacked any form of reasonable motive in Pettigrew's murder.

Pettigrew's expression haunted her somewhat. There had been such an abject look of surprise etched on his deathmask; Pettigrew hadn't seen his death coming, that much was certain. The dark witch had requested background information on him and had found that he had a police record. He had been a general misfit; there were several convictions for public inebriation, flying a broom under influence and being in possession of illegally enchanted Muggle artifacts for which he served a brief stint in Azkaban in his younger years. On the whole, he was a rather unremarkable wizard with a rather unremarkable life.

_'So why are you dead, Pettigrew?'_ Bellatrix asked herself. The dark witch always scoffed at people who thought her job was easy. '_Oh, Bellatrix'_, they'd start. '_Why not just pour some Veritaserum down the suspect's throat and you know if they've done the murder on not!_' First of all, that would be a severe violation of the suspect's rights and, secondly, a lot of people were resistant to the effects anyway and the questioner would never know for certain. Any confessions obtained through the use of a truth potion would be inadmissible in court. '_Ah, but Bella!'_ they'd then follow up. '_Use legilimency and lift the truth right out of your suspect's brain!_'. Again, a severe violation of the suspect's rights and the reader could be easily thrown off by false memories. Using either method would be a very good way to effectively kill your own case and causing a potential murderer to walk free. '_Ah, silly Bella,_' would be their final argument. '_Just use Prior Incantato on your suspect's wand! It will reveal the last spells cast! Surely that will bag you a murderer!'_. Indeed useful, except for the fact that not nearly every murder was committed with a wand, and any wizard worth his salt knew how to erase a wand's magical history by use of the Deletrius charm.

No, no, the only way to properly solve a murder was by hard work, gathering solid evidence, questioning suspects and witnesses and reconstructing events.

She'd have to do just that, and she did have some leads to chase. Bellatrix hoped that the autopsy report would get her further on track. However, that wouldn't be done until tomorrow. Perhaps it _was_ time to go home for now.

One last thing she did was to add the records McGonagall had provided to the murder-book. Specifically, the records of Potter, Weasley and Granger, complete with school pictures. On the surface, they seemed like perfectly normal seventh years, readying themselves for a life beyond school. But in her line of work, Bellatrix learned that looks were almost always deceiving. '_What are you lot hiding, hm?'_ Bellatrix thought to herself. Her gaze lingered on the picture of Hermione Granger. Certainly a pretty young mudblood. And since miss Granger hadn't worn a robe to the questioning, the dark witch had been able to conclude that, yes, she indeed did have quite a nice bum.

With work on her murder-book done, she flipped it close, tossed it in the cabinet behind her and, after locking it, said her goodbyes to her colleagues and got ready to go home. Unfortunately, Bellatrix' own efficiency had gotten the better of her and she had finished her work rather ahead of time. She found herself standing outside of the office while the sun still had to go down and, as she didn't feel tired or hungry in the slightest, wondered what the hell she should do with her evening.

It was then that she remembered Andromeda's letter. Truly, it had been a while since she had seen Andy, but... would it really be such a good idea? The last visit to her sister's house had been a total disaster. Andy was family however and, almost against her better judgment, she went back into the office to get a loaner broom to fly off into the skies.

Though Andy had married a mudblood, they kept their house in one of the hidden wizarding quarters of London. Within a few minutes, Bellatrix found herself standing on the doorstep of their lovely home. Well, certainly more lovely than Bellatrix's apartment; Andromeda had been better off in her exile than Bellatrix had been, that was for sure.

Bellatrix just stood there for a moment, just admiring the door. Certainly, it was a very nice door, and apparently recently painted green. Very professionally done, in fact. All the paint had been evenly spread over the surface of the wood, giving it a nice even coat without any errant bubbles or smudges. She let her fingers slide over the paint: indeed, nice and smooth. Hm, were those planters on either side of the door here before? Bellatrix inspected the planters, hanging at the sides of the door from a chain attached to a metal support strip bolted to the wall. Indeed, very nice to look at. The creepers pouring out from the pot were certainly coming in quite nicely as well. A good choice on Andy's part. Oh, was that a new welcome mat? Certainly, it looked fresh and new, slightly inviting even. Its color matched that of the door nicely, in fact. Then there was a gargoyle shaped knocker on the door. It was a decrepit old thing, made of stone, with a piece of its head missing. The ring in its mouth was still firmly attached, however. She only needed to reach out and grab it.

Only reach out and grab it.

So why wasn't she reaching out and grabbing it?

Bellatrix realized she had stood there for a better part of ten minutes just admiring the quality of the Tonks' front door.

"Merlin," Bellatrix whispered to herself. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Why was she so afraid to see Andy? She _loved_ her sister. She'd been to this house so many times before. Certainly, there had been conflicts between them in the past, mostly related to her relationship with Ted, but both had come to terms with that. Bellatrix had watched Nymphadora grow up from a little baby girl into the plucky young woman whom she was today. Sure, it had been months since she and Andy had spoken to each other, but that was just because Bellatrix had been so busy with work.

"This is stupid," Bellatrix whispered to herself. The best thing to do was to just jump on the broom and get the hell out of there before anyone would have known she had ever been there. Maybe it would be fun to just fly aimlessly around for a bit.

In fact, she was just about to do that when the door flew open and she suddenly stood face-to-face with the startled Ted Tonks, whom had certainly never expect to see her there.

"B-Bellatrix?" Ted blinked before he put down the empty milk bottles at the door.

_Shit, no turning back now. _"Ah, Ted. I, uh," Bellatrix looked away. "I got Andy's letter and... Well, I suppose I was in the neighborhood."

Ted smiled. "Well, don't stand out there in the cold, luv. Why don't you come in?"

Bellatrix took a deep breath as she followed Ted in, hung up her coat and found herself seated in a rather prim and proper British living room, staring at the moving pictures of Andy and her family, nestled in between the cupboards with fine china on display. Lots of pictures of Nymphadora, actually. However, one picture in particular hit a chord; all three Black sisters in better days, still at the old mansion. Young and full of life, hopes and dreams.

Ted nodded as her as her gaze veered into his direction. Ted had always treated her with respect, despite her being less than cordial towards him during the first years of Andy's marriage to him. It had taken her a long time to accept Ted as being worthy of Andy. Long ago, Bellatrix had decided that her dislike for Ted wasn't something worth losing Andromeda over. Over time, the dark witch had come to the conclusion that Ted was a good husband for Andy and a good father to Nymphadora. Not that she would ever tell him that to his face, of course.

Andromeda down from upstairs and literally rushed her older sister. "Oh, Bella! You came! It's so good to see you!"

"Andy," the dark witch closed her eyes for a moment; being embraced by her little sister made the whole visit worth it. It was nice to feel welcome, in fact. The middle Black sister took her hands and smiled warmly at her. "You look good, Bella."

Bellatrix smirked. "Liar!"

"Well," Andy shrugged. "You look better than the last time I saw you."

After serving tea and crumpets, the three of them discussed Nymphadora's recent admission to the Department as a junior auror, having gotten through the grueling three-year course. Ted and Andy were proud as peacocks and their enthusiasm was infectious. However, one could only talk about one topic for so long.

Then came the terribly awkward and forced conversation. Either Ted or Andy would ask a question related to some current event or somesuch to which Bellatrix gave one sentence answers followed by even more awkward silence. Every minute seemed to be an hour as all three were getting considerably less comfortable as time went on.

_Right, topic, topic, topic,_ Bellatrix thought frantically as this particular awkward silence lasted awkwardly longer than the earlier awkward moments she had had this entire horrible awkward evening. _Think, Bella, think! Maybe something Muggle related? T_hey were standing with one foot in the Muggle-world, after all. Then something finally shot through her brain and she immediately seized upon it.

"So, how's everything with the Iron Curtain?" Bellatrix asked, hopeful that she had found some current event to talk about. Her hopes were dashed when she saw that Ted and Andromeda exchanged glances.

"Well," Ted replied. "It, uhm, went down, didn't it?"

"Oh," Bellatrix sighed inwardly. Of course she _had _to have picked a sensitive subject. Typical! "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, no, no, that's good!" Ted corrected.

"Bella, dear," started Andy. "The Cold War in the Muggle world has been over for nearly a decade."

"Oh," Bellatrix nodded. "Who won?"

"The West," Ted replied, as if it should mean something to Bellatrix. It did not.

"Is... that a good thing?" the dark witch asked carefully.

"Yes, very," Ted replied.

"Good."

"Good."

"I'm glad we agree."

"Well," said Andy. "Shall I get us some more crumpets?"

"I'll put the kettle on," said Ted, leaving Bellatrix to sit alone in the living room. In truth, she was actually grateful for the reprieve. Still, Bellatrix was no fool; there was a reason both of them had run off to the kitchen. Curious as the dark witch was, she couldn't resist sneaking to the door; she took her wand and whispered a silent spell, allowing her to see and hear through the door without being noticed. What she saw was Ted an Andy talking, worried expressions on their faces.

"... she's just so lonely, Ted," spoke her sister. "It's been getting worse since last I saw her."

"I know, darling," Ted replied. "She practically radiates it."

"I... want to help her. Somehow," Andy replied. "I've tried to visit her, but she's hardly ever home. I mean, Bella was there for me when I needed her the most and I want to be there for her now..."

"You can't force her," Ted said. "You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

"I just... I just wish she'd find someone," Andy shook her head. "Bella deserves to be happy."

_'Am I that obvious?' _Bellatrix thought as she ended the spell. _Sweet, kind Andy. Always so willing to adopt a lost cause._

She just had to get out of there, wrote a quick note thanking them for their hospitality, left it on the table and then rushed out the door, jumped on the broom and flew off into the skies before Andy and Ted would ever know she was gone.

Bellatrix was lost in thought when the wind whipped through her hair. Andy's words mulled through her head again and again. Lonely. Really? Was she lonely? She didn't have time to be lonely. And companionship was overrated anyway. Perhaps loneliness was something like a ratty old cloak; unpleasant to wear, yet comfortably familiar. Life was just a lot less complicated when there weren't any other people around, after all.

The overwhelming urge to get completely and utterly drunk got the better of her. Thankfully, a nightclub was there to provide. The music was loud, the clubbers were annoying, the magical flashes were far too intense for her liking. However, she wasn't there for the decor, but rather to get completely and utterly rat arsed. And they had plenty of proper booze for her to reach that lofty goal.

Eventually, she attracted the attention of a pretty young witch who joined her for drinks. She wasn't the kind of woman Bellatrix usually associated with: twenty-five, bleached hair, yuppie, the IQ of a particularly dimwitted cornish hen... Still, alcohol did a lot to strip off all inhibitions and sensibilities. They didn't even knew each others names, but really, that was no need for it.

Memories of what happened next were merely flashes due to an alcohol-induced haze. She remembered snippets of flirting, even some dancing while the awful, awful beats of the music slammed through her skull. One kiss led to another. And another to another, until all they were doing was snogging in a quiet corner of the club. Bellatrix had no memory of actually coming home, only flashes of rolling around in her bed, kissing and caressing the wild young witch. Feeling her. Tasting her. Moans, sighs and screams, some her own. There was not a shred of tenderness in their encounter; it was a competition, pure and simple, where one was trying to outdo the other. Pure, wild, empty sex. Pleasure without meaning. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her sensibilities returned to her somewhat later in the night, amidst an already developing hangover. The tipsy Bellatrix felt with the nude body of the pretty young witch pressing against her as she slept. The older witch ran her hands through her bleached blonde hair and simply enjoyed the moment, for it would only be a moment. The next morning she would wake up in an empty bed.

The pretty young witch would leave. They always leave.

And when she woke up the next morning, she was indeed alone. Left laying in her bed with a terrible hangover and the disgusting musk of the young witch's cheap perfume permeating the room, Bellatrix decided that this was one of those times that the comfortable ratty old cloak of loneliness was considerably less comfortable than usual.


	4. Postmortem

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 4: Postmortem _

Bellatrix pressed her head against the cold tiles of her shower as the warm water splashed on her body. A strangled groan escaped from the depths of her lungs. For what must have been the thirtieth time this year, she'd promised herself that she'd never ever drink again... fully aware that she would break that promise at the earliest opportunity for alcohol consumption.

Thankfully, it seemed that headache from her hangover was starting to subside a just little and Bellatrix figured she would be somewhat presentable at least. Her main concern was to get the awful smell of her one-night lover's cheap perfume off her body. Seriously, the pretty young witch's pungent perfume permeated her entire bedroom; she'd have to leave the windows open while at work to let her apartment air out.

She came out of the shower wearing a towel wrapped around her body and decided to do a quick check of her mailbox before getting dressed. As expected, there was a note from Andy; no surprisingly, she was really worried about her leaving early last night and invited her for lunch at a cafe in Diagon Alley. Bellatrix took a quill and a piece of paper and wrote a quick note back. 'Can't. Working on a case. Talk later. Love you, B."

It was a lame excuse, and she knew it. Bellatrix loved her sister, but really couldn't use the distraction right now. That didn't stop her from feeling a tinge of guilt after putting the note in her mailbox where it would be picked up by her apartment building's complementary owl service later this morning. Andy deserved better than a quick and lame one sentence apology letter.

After fighting to get her wet and unruly curly mop under control, she left the apartment and flooed to the office through the communal fireplace on the ground floor.

As usual, she was the first person to arrive at work and, as expected, there was a note from the coroner lying on her desk. She should have known, as the coroner was quite a night-owl.

The dark witch found her way to the deeper bowels of the office, the very basement. The temperature here was quite a bit lower due to the magical refrigeration needed to keep the bodies and the samples from expiring. After suppressing an involuntary shiver, Bellatrix entered the morgue. Bubbling erlenmeyers and tubes ran all over the lab; to any outsider, it would seem to be the lab of a mad wizard, but to Barty Crouch jr, this was home.

Quite literally. His quarters were right next to the morgue.

Bellatrix stood in the doorway while Barty worked, cutting into a body belonging to a Muggle woman murdered with magic, a case Richards had been working on. A radio was on his desk near the slabs, receiving the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was playing a song she had never heard before, though at this hour, when no sane wizard would be listening, the WWN often played music from the Muggle world to fill the dead air.

"_I'm movin' to the country, I'm gonna eat a lot of peaches_," Barty sung along with the song. "_Movin' to the country, I'm gonna eat me a lot of peaches_."

Bellatrix winced when Barty yanked on the ribspreader placed in the woman's chest cavity. There was sickening, bone-grinding crunch before Barty reached in and literally ripped the heart out of her chest. Barty tossed the heart onto a scale and jotted down the weight.

"_Peaches come from a can. They were put there by a man_," sang Barty. "_In a factory downtown_."

Barty grabbed the heart, aimed and threw it in the air. The heart had a nicely angled parabolic trajectory and landed right back into her chest cavity with a resounding wet plop. The coroner, twirled around his axis, did a fist-pump and whispered a quick 'Yes!', making Bellatrix wonder just how often internal organs would end slipping about on the floor in this room.

His apron was covered in blood as he put away his oversized saws and clamps. A moment later, he was running his wand across the incisions, closing them up. It was then that Bellatrix decided to announce herself by scraping her throat.

"Hello there, Black," said Barty when he finally did look up. "Blimey, you look like you've been raised from the dead."

Bellatrix snorted. "Don't put me on a slab and cut me open, please. Contrary to popular belief, I'm still very much alive."

"You smell of alcohol, cheap perfume and shame," Barty stated.

"I suggest you drop this topic," Bellatrix hissed through clenched teeth. The implied threat was apparently being taken seriously by Barty, as he indeed said nothing more on the subject.

"Here about the other corpse, then?"

"Why else would I be here?"

"My smoldering good looks?" he grinned and wiped away a bit of blood splatter from his face.

"Dream on," Bellatrix replied.

"Maybe you just want to feel my liver," he said as he held up an oversized liver from a tray on the table. "This one is going into my private collection."

The dark witch rolled her eyes. "You love your job a bit too much, Barty."

"Look who's talking, miss work-a-holic-don't-bother-me-at-Yule-time-cause-I-will-be-working-while-sane-people-are-spending-time-with-their-families," Barty licked his lips, an irritating twitch which he had developed over the past years.

Bellatrix ignored the barb and joined Barty at the slab. Pettigrew was just as dead as he had been yesterday, but knowing Barty, he was probably missing a few organs right now. "So, what are your findings?"

Barty went into professional mode and ran his gloved hands over Pettigrew's chest. "I'll tell you one thing, the magic didn't kill him," he said as he pointed out the burn wounds. "Mostly superficial impacts, intended to hurt, sure, but not enough to actually do any serious damage. No, no, no, our rat-faced friend died from something considerably more mundane."

Bellatrix watched as Barty twisted his head sideways. "Blunt trauma to the back of the head, upper neck," he said as he pointed out a bony protrusion and a nasty gash under the hairline

"Did someone bash his noggin in?" Bellatrix asked while she rubbed her chin.

"No," Barty said. "Angle's all wrong for that. He fell on something. Look here, the impact is at the lower part of the skull. Crushed the upper cervical vertebrae. Instant death. Never knew what hit him."

"Fell or pushed?" Bellatrix wondered.

"Hey, it's your job to figure that one out. I don't tell you how to do your job."

"Hm," Bellatrix frowned. "Have you established an exact time of death?"

"Please, what do you take me for?" Barty grinned. "Judging from the lividity, he died approximately at 3:15."

"That's nearly an hour before the elf found him, interesting," she rubbed her chin. "I think it's time for me to go back to Hogwarts."

"Maybe you can bring me back another body?" Barty asked. "I still need two kidneys to complete the set."

"Building yourself a girlfriend, Barty?" Bellatrix joked.

Barty suddenly froze. "What have you heard?! It's all slander, I swear!"

The dark witch blinked. "Uhm, it was just a joke."

"Oh, yes, a joke. Hahahaha. Funny. Let's all listen to the funny joke," Barty looked around nervously.

"I'm... going to leave now."

"Perhaps that's for the best."

"Just so you know," said Bellatrix. "Should I ever find myself murdered, I want someone else to perform the autopsy."

"Aw, now you've hurt my feelings, Black," Barty laughed.

"I'd just prefer to be buried with all my innards intact, Barty," Bellatrix said. "Call me boring, but I prefer nobody will play hackysack with my heart after I die."

Barty huffed slightly at the insult. "I would _never_ play hackysack with your heart, Black. You need a _lung_ for that! They squish very nicely."

Bellatrix couldn't get out of the morgue quickly enough. A few moments later, she flooed to the entrance hall of Hogwarts, ready to continue her investigation. Unfortunately, she was met with frustration as there were members of the press gathered trying to get answers from students and staff about the murder. The dark witch cursed under her breath, remembering Jensen's request to remain civil. _'Alright, Bella, you can do this,_' she told her held and forced a broad fake smile from ear to ear. '_Be a good little girl for mum.'_

The moment she was noticed was the moment she was rushed by journalists and photographers alike. Flash after flash, question after question. It was a cacophony of voices, one trying to shout harder than the other to make their question heard.

"I cannot comment on specific details as the investigation is ongoing," Bellatrix droned in a monotonous tone. "But I assure you every effort is being taken to find the culprit and bring him or her to justice."

Not good enough for the horde, not nearly good enough at all. All journalists threw themselves upon her with their inane questions. Worst of all was the Skeeter woman.

"Detective Black, this terrible murder happened right in the heart of a prestigious wizarding academy," Skeeter started. "If mister Pettigrew was so horribly torn apart, how can the Department assure worried parents that their children won't be targeted?"

_'Torn apart? When did this happen?_' Bellatrix wondered, before realizing that Skeeter was trying to goad her into unwittingly sharing details of the murder. The dark witch wouldn't bite, however. "I cannot comment on the details of the case, as the investigation is ongoing," Bellatrix said again. "However, I can assure you that I have no reason to believe the students of Hogwarts are at any risk. Now if you excuse me, I have a job to do."

Led by the Skeeter woman, the journalists effectively blocked her path, vexing the dark witch to no end. "How can you be certain?" Skeeter pressed. "Rumors are the victim had ties to organized crime. The public has a right to know."

More obvious goading. More trying to trick her into giving away details on the case.

Enough.

Enough was enough.

"The public has a right to know bugger all until I'm done with my investigation! Now get out of my way, you bleedin' parasites!" Bellatrix snarled angrily as she pushed through the crowd and pushed through the entrance of the school, where the staff was dutifully keeping the journo's out. It took the dark witch a few moments to calm herself sufficiently. There was undoubtedly a special place reserved in Hell for all journalists, Bellatrix decided.

About ten minutes later, she was pacing through the empty library, trying to figure out where Pettigrew could have hit his head. Bellatrix had the police photographs in hand and studied the position of the body. Two options were open; first, it could be that his assailant never tried to actually kill him, but hadn't counted on Pettigrew having an unfortunate landing. Second possibility, his assailant _had_ wanted to kill him and conveniently bashed his head against something sharp. Both were very valid.

Thing is, there was nowhere in the library where he could have hit his head or where someone could have bashed his head in during a struggle. Whatever he fell on was strong and pointy enough to cause permanent damage. The only thing she could think of were the reading desks and those were on the upper floors.

No, there was only one conclusion. Pettigrew died somewhere else and body had been moved. This would consistent with the lack of residual magical energy as well. The spell that hit Pettigrew hadn't come out of nowhere, after all. The dark witch went back through her notes. There must have been something she had missed.

She left the library and returned to Pettigrew's quarters, the most likely place where he could have been murdered. However, before she entered, she noticed was that her seal had been broken; someone had been inside this room recently.

Bellatrix had an excellent memory and an even better eye for details. The room, messy as it was, had obviously been disturbed. Several drawers had been opened, some drawers that were open yesterday were now closed. One drawer's contents were on the floor, as if the person whom had searched it had become desperate.

Making a note of the intrusion, Bellatrix drew her wand. "Sanguineus Aperio," she whispered, causing a narow violent beam to emit from her wand. Carefully and methodically, Bellatrix roved it around the room, spending time at sharp or angular edges. As soon as Bellatrix pointed her wand at one of the metal bed-posts, the violet magical light revealed the remnants of splattered blood. The shape of the post was consistent with the wound and the blood that had been on it had been washed off recently. Bellatrix grinned to herself: she'd found the murder weapon, as well as conclusive evidence that the body had been moved.

"Quite," Bellatrix whispered to herself and logged her findings. She would have the bed taken apart and the post booked into evidence. Still, she stood in the room thinking; something still wasn't right.

Almost on a whim, she paced from one side of the room to the other and counted. Then she went back to the corridor and counted the number of paces it took to get to the door of the next room. For good measure, she also counted the paces in the next room and got to the conclusion that there were at least four paces worth of space missing between the two rooms. The dark witch somewhat excitedly examined the north wall of Pettigrew's quarters. She used the same spell she had used the day before on her sister's kitchen door and scanned for any hollow surfaces. To her delight, she did find just that.

Now to just open the magically hidden door. She figured Pettigrew would need quick and subtle access to it, so the key wouldn't be overly complicated. Immediately, she remembered that she still had Pettigrew's wand on him and took it from her coat. One light tap to the wall was enough to reveal a hidden door; simple minds, simple solutions. And Pettigrew certainly had a simple mind, from what she had gathered about the man.

With her wand in front of her, Bellatrix got ready to enter the hidden section of the room. It was again just about any Department regulation to attempt a breach alone without any form of back-up. But, of course, she wasn't just anyone; she was Bellatrix Black. Confident that she could do this on her own, she prepared to enter the lion's den.

The hidden section of the room revealed a metal spiral staircase leading down into a lower section of the castle. Judging from the way it had been crudely bolted into the stonework, she guessed it was a fairly recent addition. On the way down, her wand picked up some minor traps which she deftly disabled. Once at the bottom of the staircase, she found herself in a pitch dark room with no exits and no windows. "Lumos," she whispered, revealing sconces on the wall. A quick wave with Pettigrew's wand lit all of them up simultaneously, but what the light revealed was something she never expected to see. In fact, what she saw took her breath away.

"Bloody hell," she whispered as she viewed the contents of this hidden vault. For a vault it was; this room was enchanted to contain vastly more space than its outsides could ever contain. In front of her were dozens of crates filled to the brim with illegal goods; crates of polyjuice potions, all manner of magical narcotics, as well as crates and crates of Muggle artifacts. A few crates even contained only galleons.

One single crate in particular caught her eye, as it stood in the corner of the room away from all the other crates. After taking the lid off, she found odd things which could only be Muggle in origin. They were elongated metal objects, with a handle on one side and a hollow metal tube on the other. Bellatrix awkwardly picked one of the objects up, and found it to be quite heavy. Some convoluted Muggle mechanism would undoubtedly be inside.

"Secialis Revelio," Bellatrix waved her wand over the Muggle devices. The things glowed a bright pink, indicating the presence of a complicated enchantment laid upon them.

All these Muggle artifacts... Wizards would have no use for those things; why were these even here? This was much, much bigger than a mere school-based black market.

To the side were disorganized shelves with potions, trinkets, charms and other minor things. These would undoubtedly be the items he'd trade with the students. Nestled between the shelves was a small writing desk with several ledgers. After making sure there weren't any unwelcome surprises, Bellatrix started flipping through the ledgers to see what she could find. Indeed, most of the items in the crates as well as the galleons were cataloged and accounted for. It became obvious to her that Pettigrew had been trafficking these items and his black market on the school was nothing more than just a project on the side. Pettigrew was obviously just the middle man. In fact, she was almost certain that Pettigrew stole most the items he sold to the students on the Hogwarts black market from the very crates he was supposed to be trafficking.

She had accidentally stumbled upon a major criminal operation. Bellatrix couldn't believe her eyes when she flipped through the ledger; though most items were meant for the overseas black market, a lot of the enchanted Muggle artifacts were intended to be sold to Muggles. This was a major risk to the continued existence of the wizarding world.

On the desk, there was a second ledger which cataloged all his sales to the students; all small-time stuff compared to the other crime she had uncovered.

The first thing she learned was that, besides alcohol, Pettigrew had a second vice; gambling. He had a substantial debt with some underworld traders. Immediately, things started to click in place: Pettigrew was deeply in debt and had probably been strong-armed to hide all this stuff here. And a perfect place it was; who would ever look for this many illegal goods in the middle of a prestigious school like Hogwarts?

She leafed through the second ledger, which kept track of his black market sales. It was a comprehensive list of students and money he had made from them. Most of the time, the items sold were not identified unless the student in question would have a special request. Mostly they were prank items, some illegal alcohol, a rogue bludger or two, some contraceptive potions, polyjuice. Harmless stuff. Also, he seemed to have jacked up his prices considerably a few weeks back, coinciding with a particularly bad day at the dog track. Most of the student names she did not recognize, but many were seen multiple times as part of a steady clientele.

However, she did recognize one name.

The name 'Granger' appeared in the ledger with regular intervals. The item bought was unfortunately not identified, however, her named was ever so often marked with the word 'exchange'. Intriguing.

Her mind was still reeling as she quickly went up the stairs, left the room and sealed it with the most powerful binding spell she could muster, causing heavy magical chains to appear around the door. Immediately, she asked Wonky to lead her to the Hogwarts owlry, where Bellatrix wrote a message to Jensen to set things in motion to impound the illegal goods in the deepest of secret. It wouldn't take long for many constables and inspectors to floo into Hogwarts to examine the goods.

* * *

An hour later, after pointing out to the constables what she had found, Bellatrix sat in the library to review her findings in her notebook, pouring over different angles and possibilities. No doubt the Department officers had already hauled the majority of the illegal goods away by now, but Bellatrix herself was still not anywhere closer to finding the murderer. She still had a job to do.

She quickly dismissed the notion that Pettigrew had been murdered by a business partner; they would have run the risk of the entire operation being exposed such as had happened just now. A debtor, then? Someone not connected to the operation. That seeded more likely, but dead men didn't pay any debts, and if a debtor had wanted to make an example for him, it wouldn't have been executed so sloppily. No, no, the person who murdered Pettigrew had to have been unaware of this whole sordid affair.

And so she was back at square one, despite her incredible find. This time, with more questions than answers. Again, it was time to re-evalute her findings: she had a dead black marketeer whose body had been moved from the place of his murder to the library, where it was stumbled upon by a house-elf. That same black marketeer had gambling debts, a drinking problem and was involved in some very shady affairs on the side. She also had three suspicious students with conflicting accounts of their doings, one of which had been specifically named in said Black Marketeer's ledgers. The most obvious lead to pursue would be the mudblood Granger.

"Ahum, good day, miss Black," she heard a familiar voice say as the person it belonged to approached her. Bellatrix looked up and saw that it was the very mudblood whom she had met the day before.

_Speak of the devil._

"Miss Granger," she nodded at the young witch. She had exchanged her school uniform for a casual set of clothes and had a thick book in her arms.

_Still cute_, the dark witch thought to herself.

"I heard we have you to thank for allowing the library to be re-opened today?" miss Granger said.

Bellatrix looked around her. A cursory glance revealed that they were the only two persons in the library. "You couldn't tell by the look of it."

"Well, I'm afraid the library isn't the most popular place to be on a Saturday for many students," said the mudblood girl.

"Unless it's to have a quick shag between the bookstacks?" Bellatrix finished.

The young witch scraped her throat for a moment. "Uhm, I, uh, suppose. Would you mind if I'd join you?"

Bellatrix remained silent for a moment. Yes, the mudblood was still cute and, for once, she met someone with hair that was messier than hers. Then there was also the little matter of her name being in Pettigrew's ledger. "Sit," she finally decided when the cuteness had won her over.

Curiously, though, the young witch seemed to be quite a bit paler than she had been the day before. At first Bellatrix thought it had been the poor lighting in this section of the library, but now it was clear as day; it was as if the color had drained out of miss Granger's face completely.

The young witch nodded her thanks and quickly sat down. "Thank you," she said. "I was hoping to speak to you."

"Did you now?"

"I, well, let me just spell it out. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions... for my thesis about the influence of Hogwarts on magical society," Granger asked.

"Indeed?" Bellatrix replied, being slightly amused by this turn of events. "So, would I be part of the successful people or the failures?"

The mudblood seemed to think for a moment. "Well, how would _you_ classify yourself?"

Bellatrix blinked, then laughed. She held up her finger mockingly. "Clever, clever girl."

The young witch took Bellatrix's words at face-value and apparently accepted them as a compliment.

"Well," Bellatrix shifted as she put away her notebook. "I suppose I'm both and... neither. It depends on who you ask."

"Oh?" miss Granger asked, her curiosity obviously piqued. "Could you elaborate?"

"Hm, usually I'm the one asking the questions," Bellatrix huffed, but once again let it slide. The young witch had such a cute smile it melted her heart just a little bit.

"Well, if you'd ask my parents before they died, they'd tell you how terribly disappointed they are in me," Bellatrix shrugged. "fI you'd ask my sisters, they'd probably tell you that they're worried sick about me. If you'd ask my cousin, he'd say that I'm evil incarnate. If you'd ask Jensen, that's my boss by the way, and my colleagues, they'd tell you I'm an asset to the team and a good detective. You see, it's all relative. Things are rarely as black and white as you want them to be."

The young mudblood listened intently and wrote down some notes. "That's what others say about you. What if you answered that question for yourself?"

"Perceptive little thing, aren't you?" Bellatrix chuckled as she sat back for a moment. The mudblood was looking at her intently and was actually hanging from her very lips. "Very well. I'd like to think that in my life, I did what I thought was best for _me._ There's a lot of expectations of a woman in a pure-blood family. For good and for ill, I did what _I_ wanted instead of what was expected of me. Sometimes that had a good outcome, sometimes it hadn't. Some people would say I'm insane and, really, who am I to argue? Mental instability runs in my family, after all."

Miss Granger was sitting on the edge of her seat as she listened to the dark witch speak.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions about Hogwarts?" the dark witch smirked. "That _is_ what your research is about, no?"

"Huh?" the mudblood blinked. "Oh. Oh! Of course, uhm, how would you say that your tenure at Hogwarts has shaped your life?"

"Well," Bellatrix thought for a moment. "I think it was the very fact that I had to leave home and be away from my family. I had a very sheltered childhood. Being away from home brought me in contact with a lot of people with different views than my own."

Miss Granger cocked her head sideways. "Did that change your views on magical society?"

Bellatrix threw her head back and let out a brief laugh. "Hah! Certainly not! Not at first, at least. I lashed out against everyone and everything that was different and strange to me. I was an unholy terror and spent more time in detention than I did in the library. Just ask that old hag McGonagall about me if you're interested. I'm sure she'll have a whole host of stories to share."

"Did you pick on Muggle-borns?" the young witch asked.

Bellatrix snorted. "Of course I did. And half-bloods. And pure-bloods whom I didn't find agreeable. Like I said, I was a terror. It took me a while to realize the freedom I had suddenly gained was changing me. I rather liked being on my own and doing my own thing. I think that was the most important impact Hogwarts had on my life. My family had a path laid out for me and I decided to step off it. That might have led to being disowned, but at least it was a path I chose for myself."

"Do you regret it?" asked the mudblood.

"Regret what? You have to be a bit more specific, miss Granger."

"Picking on Muggle-borns."

The girl looked at her closely, waiting for what the dark witch would say. Somehow, she got the feeling that whatever answer she would give was important to the young woman in front of her. Bellatrix, however, never answered the question. "Are you being picked on?" she asked.

Miss Granger shifted uncomfortably. It was apparently not one of miss Granger's favorite topics to talk about. Bellatrix did understand it; supposedly being a mudblood wasn't much fun for mudbloods themselves either.

"I've seen the badges at Slytherin hall. The Purity Front has a chapter here, doesn't it?" asked Bellatrix. "Have they been making your life miserable?"

"Mine and every other Muggle-born's," the young woman sighed as she looked away. "It never used to be this bad."

The young witch leant to one side and removed something from her satchel. "Someone slipped this into my book bag this morning," she said softly, almost a whisper. The young witch held out a piece of parchment for Bellatrix to take. Curious, the dark witch unfolded it. It was a crudely written letter.

"_Mudblood filth! You are nothing but a dirty thief who steals magic from real wizards like us! Why don't you sink back into the Muggle mudpit you crawled out of! It doesn't matter how high your grades are, it doesn't matter how much effort you put in. No matter how hard you try, YOU WILL NEVER BE ONE OF US!" _Underneath the letter was the emblem of the Purity Front; a circle around a plus symbol.

Bellatrix looked back at the girl, and saw that her eyes were ever so slightly watery. The dark witch was about tell the girl to grow a spine, but it occurred to her that miss Granger was not the sort of girl who would be rattled by things like this. No, but she surmised that whomever had written this excuse for a letter had been tormenting her over a long period of time, chipping away at her resolve like a river erodes rock. "It's just words, miss Granger," Bellatrix replied.

The young woman shook her head. "The words are irrelevant. It's the intent behind them."

Bellatrix nodded and took another look at the letter. "If it's intent you want, let's see what we can tell. Hm, everything about this letter screams 'coward'. The person who wrote it uses both anonymity and the Purity Front as a shield, and hides her true meaning behind bullshit rhetoric. Really, it's not about your blood status as all. The girl who wrote this mentions your academic achievements specifically, so I can only conclude that she feels threatened by you. She wants to rattle your chains, miss Granger, and hopes invoking the name of the Front will do just that."

The young woman frowned. "Excuse me, did you say 'her' and 'she'? How can you tell?"

"Here," Bellatrix said and pointed at some of the written letters, specifically the a', o' and l's. "Look at the rounded vowels and the elongated loops. That is usually indicative of a woman's handwriting."

The young woman's pretty face suddenly contorted in a brief pang of rage. "Parkinson!" she hissed the name as if it was a dire curse. "Of course it was her! Why would I think otherwise? Why else would she be near the Gryffindor dining table at breakfast this morning? This is all about that stupid potions exam. I scored a tenth of a point higher than she did and apparently that warrants this... this..." The young woman crumpled up the letter and tossed it into a waste-basket. "God, I spent the entire morning being upset over that letter. Why do I keep letting her to this to me?!"

"Well, there you go," Bellatrix shrugged.

The girl seemed to have calmed down somewhat. "I take it from your choice of words that you don't care much for the Purity Front?"

"They're a bunch of morons," said Bellatrix. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a strong believer in blood purity, but half of the things the Front claims as truth is just plain nonsensical. If you need to lie and make up blatant rhetoric to get your point across, you're not doing your ideals justice. I am proud of my pure-blood heritage. And that pride should be enough."

"There's nothing wrong with being proud of one's heritage," the young woman said. "I just wish some people could be a little less insufferable about it."

_'And what heritage do you have to be proud of?' _thought Bellatrix. Truth be told, judging from her academic achievements, the dark witch considered that miss Granger actually had plenty to be proud of. Sadly for her, blood purity was not one of those things.

"So instead of celebrating pure-blood pride, we get this inane nonsense that non pure-bloods steal magic. Hah! That was the standard argument when I was your age and it was old even then. Consider this: if magic is finite then with the sheer amount of non pure-bloods that have come and gone before, there wouldn't have been any magic left by now if that was true. And if magic is in infinite supply, well, then it really doesn't matter either way. If you take the logical approach, you can poke a hole through pretty much everything they are saying."

Hermione nodded briefly. "I wish more pure-bloods would think like you do."

"I'm a detective chief inspector," Bellatrix shrugged. "If I wouldn't think logically, I'd be pretty piss-poor at my job. And Blacks aren't slackers, miss Granger. I might be a Black in exile, but I still honor my family name."

The young witch smiled warmly at her. There was a measure of gratitude in her young eyes.

Now, this would be the perfect time to confront miss Granger with the ledger. After all, that was what all this chatting was about, wasn't it? Gain the girl's confidence and then move in for the kill when she least expected it? She had done this hundreds of times before, after all. It was right next to her chair, in her satchel. Bellatrix only needed to take it out and throw it on the table in front of miss Granger.

But then again, she did have such a cute smile.

Going against her better judgment, the dark witch decided not to ruin the pleasant atmosphere and left Pettigrew's ledger where it was. _Sweet Merlin, I'm such a sucker for a pretty face_, Bellatrix sighed. Truth be told, Granger wasn't going anywhere and the dark witch was quite interested in learning more about her.

Before the next question could be asked, Wonky appeared out of nowhere. "Uhm, Wonky is sorry to interrupt these two honorable witches, but the head master would like to see miss officer Black."

"Well, that is that, I guess," Bellatrix said.

"Thank you for your time, miss Black," miss Granger smiled warmly.

"It's been a pleasure."

Oddly enough, even Bellatrix herself was surprised that she had actually meant it.


	5. Marriage, love optional

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 5: Marriage, Love Optional._

Dumbledore's office hadn't changed much since the many times she had been sent there when she had still been a student; the long walks up the spiral staircase towards eventual punishment. Then again, Hogwarts itself had never changed much either. As, just like so long ago, she was sitting at the chair at his desk, waiting for Dumbledore to appear. She looked around and regarded the endless stacks of books and collection of magical artifacts. It seemed more impressive when she was younger.

Though she actually hadn't spoken to Dumbledore since her school days, she had sometimes seen him in court. As chief warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore often presided over trials regarding cases she had solved. Usually, her reports were thorough enough, but sometimes the prosecutor would call upon her to clarify her report and explain how she had come to certain conclusions. As such their contact had been limited by the occasional glance and nod, however.

"Ah, dear Bellatrix," the kindly old wizard appeared from a smaller side-office with a book in hands. "How nice to see you. You look wonderful, my dear. Would you like a chocolate frog?"

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "No thank you," she said. "I take it someone from the Department has told you about what we have found by now?"

"What _you _found, you mean?" Dumbledore sat down with a slightly troubled expression on his face. "Yes, such dreadful business, and under our very own roof. First the tragedy of Peter's death, and now..."

"You really had no idea this was happening? I thought you always knew everything," said Bellatrix. It was a barb, meant to sting. But if it did, the old wizard never showed any outward sides of actually being stung. The old wizard simply put down the book and moved to a small metal tin containing sweets.

Dumbledore held a chocolate frog. "Oh, do you mind if I...?"

"You don't need to ask my permission in your own office."

"Thank you," he said and popped the frog in his mouth and sat down behind his desk. "Now, as I was saying, I can't be in every place at once. Thankfully the Department has now taken away all the illegal goods."

Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "This does shed a new light on mister Filch's sudden retirement. I swear, I always figured that old blighter would only leave Hogwarts feet first. In light of current developments, I'm starting to think he was forced out by someone. Blackmail, perhaps? Or another kind of threat? And after Filch left, Peter Pettigrew was conveniently standing by to take his place."

"A disturbing thought," Dumbledore said. "Certainly, Ive'always found it suspicious that he was the only person to apply for the job when it became available. In fact, there were two more candidates whom both quite suddenly withdrew their applications. Hm, I will make some inquiries. Perhaps now that all the illegal goods have been confiscated, the criminals will have no reason to bother mister Filch. He might even come back."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Good for him. It might take some time to track the culprits down; this'll be a grand operation involving all sub-departments. However, that is an entire different matter altogether and no doubt plenty of people will be only to happy to coordinate this with Hogwarts. In the meantime, I still have a murderer to catch and I will see that through."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "How are you doing, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix sat back in the chair. "I have several leads to explore, so I am on the right track. I hope you realize I cannot reveal more because the investigation is still ongoing."

The kindly old wizard briefly shook his head. "I wasn't talking about the case, Bellatrix. I meant you, personally. How are _you_ doing, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix frowned and leant forward. "Right now, I am wondering why an awful lot of people are suddenly so interested in me."

"You've changed a lot, yet in many ways you are still the same," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You are still hostile to people who mean you well."

"Just who I am, I suppose," Bellatrix replied. She was getting rather tired of this old man's sentimental ramblings. She had a job to do, after all. "Now, if we're done here, I need to continue my investigation. I have strong reasons to believe that Pettigrew's death was unrelated to his trafficking side-business. I have no choice in the matter but to keep pursuing the culprit."

Dumbledore's smile never faded. "I recall telling a young woman who was sitting in that very chair in tears that there is always a choice."

That hit Bellatrix hard, a veritable gut-punch.

Suddenly she was that seventeen year old girl again. She remembered that day quite well, for it was the day that she had been told that she had been promised to Rodolphus Lestrange. The announcement had come by letter, of all things. The family owl had brought her two things: from her mother, a box of strawberry flavored scones she liked and a letter from her father, to inform her of the 'joyful' news. Her father hadn't even bothered to tell her in person. The wedding date had been set for the fifth of June, the day she would turn eighteen.

Such a splendid birthday gift...

Of course, she had known it was coming; arranged marriages were the norm among pure-blood circles, after all. But actually having it set in stone, wedding date and all, meant it had gotten uncomfortably close; uncomfortably close to losing the freedoms she had grown accustomed to. By then, Bellatrix had already decided that she preferred the romantic company of other girls so the prospect of marriage became even more loathsome.

To make matters worse, Rodolphus had been particularly insufferable about it. Bellatrix was considered to be very beautiful; many students had pursued her, few had ever gotten close. And suddenly that dimwit Rodolphus was going around telling everybody he'd run into just what he was planning to do to her on their wedding night, in every sordid and explicit detail.

As a result, she had gone on a terror-spree. She had hexed people left and right, had made cauldrons explode, had blasted holes through walls and had generally made a terrible nuisance of herself. Like many times before, she had been caught, subdued and sent to the head master's office to explain herself.

The old wizard had known about her arranged marriage; of course he had known. Bellatrix had fed Dumbledore the same empty phrases her father had bombarded her with all her life; family honor, duty to the house of Black, proper pure-blood marriage with proper pure-blood offspring, loyalty and devotion to her family, to her soon-to-be husband and to the pure-blood ideal.

Dumbledore carefully listened to her, rubbed his beard and countered every empty phrase with one single question: "But what is it that _you_ want, Bellatrix?"

At first Bellatrix had thought it was a stupid question. What she _wanted_ didn't matter at all. She could have nothing to _want_. But the more Dumbledore repeated the question, the more it had made her think. She didn't know what she wanted, but she knew what she did _not_ want. She did not want an empty marriage to a man she loathed. She did not want to be locked up in a gilded cage of a mansion, playing the dutiful wife and house-witch. She did not want to be a broodmare, her only reason in life being to pop out as much pure-blood offspring as possible.

She wanted to be free.

All she remembered after that was breaking down in tears, until the kindly Dumbledore sat down next to her, gently took her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and told her that there was always a choice, provided she would be willing to live with the consequences.

Hearing that had made her cry even harder. Yes, there was a way out. But it would cost her everything she had ever known. She'd have nothing left _but_ her freedom. Bellatrix remembered being terrified to the core, clutching onto to Dumbledore, crying into his robe until she could cry no more. It had been a turning point in her life. Loyalty was something Bellatrix considered to be her highest virtue, and Dumbledore's lesson that day was that her loyalty was a precious gift which should not be wasted on those who did not deserve it.

Not even half a day later, she sat in that very same chair, listening to her father spewing the vilest curses her young ears had ever heard. She just sat there silently, feeling numb and alone. Oh, the curses were not directed at her at all, but rather at Dumbledore. The old wizard took it all in stride when her father accused Dumbledore from anything under the sun; how his wayward teachings had 'corrupted' his precious daughter, how he had filled her mind with 'lies and deceptions', how he was trying to turn her into a 'blood-traitor'. Finally, he turned to her, but there was no anger in his eyes, rather... had it been desperation?

"_Please, my little warrior,"_ he had told her after placing his hands on her shoulders. "_Think about what you're doing. Think of your family. You know what I'll have to if you don't change your mind."_

Bellatrix had been crying so much that day that all her tears had long been spent. She merely looked her father in the eyes and offered him one last sad smile. "_Goodbye, father,"_ she had said. And that had been that. With tears in his eyes, Cygnus Black III officially exiled Bellatrix from the House of Black in this very office, on the spot. Part of her had hoped that he wouldn't have gone through with it. She was his precious girl, his 'little warrior', after all. But it wasn't to be.

When her father had left, she'd felt relieved, oddly enough. Relieved that the ordeal was over, her life was now her own, with all the unknowns and fears that could bring. She was free, yes, but utterly terrified. And utterly alone.

Dumbledore had one card left in play, however. He told her that there were two people who wanted to see her before she left the office. Hiding in the small side office, silent witnesses to the whole exchange, were her two sisters. Andromeda and Narcissa, Slytherin students of lower years, rushed into the room and embraced their older sister. At first Bellatrix didn't understand: she was exiled. They were expected to shun her. But the two of them let Bellatrix know in no uncertain terms that they had absolutely no intention to break off contact with her. Certainly, Bellatrix had lost everything she had known, except the two people in the world who mattered most of to her. She found courage in that.

When her attention slowly returned to the present day, the only thing she felt was rage. The old man had purposely brought up a time in her life in which she had been the most vulnerable. And she wanted to know why.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she shrieked while slamming both her fists on his desk. "You have _no_ right to bring that up!" Bellatrix hissed angrily, as she realized that the wizard was manipulating her.

"Who are you trying to protect, old man?" Bellatrix followed up with an accusing glare. "What's your stake in this?!"

"Protect?" asked Dumbledore, his smile never faltering. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Enough!" Immediately, Bellatrix flipped out her badge. "Do you see this? This is me. This is who I am! I earned this badge. Me! On my own! I didn't get it through family connections or money! I will uncover the truth, no matter what it is, no matter who it touches, no matter the consequences!"

"Of course you will," he said, still smiling. "I fully trust you to do the right thing above anything else."

"Good, we are clear then," Bellatrix rose from her chair.

"It was good to see you again," said Dumbledore while Bellatrix stepped through the door. "And Bellatrix? I hope you will find what you have been looking for."

Bellatrix nodded and wordlessly left the office. But she couldn't shake the thought that she was still being manipulated.

Still, as she walked down the spiral staircase leading down the tower, there was one memory which had remained. A memory that could always make her smile to this very day: The look on Rodolphus' face after she had thrown the engagement ring right at him in the dining hall, in front of the entire school, had been absolutely priceless.

* * *

She arrived at the Ministry and rushed to Magical Homicides. The meeting with Dumbledore had shaken her up more than she would care to admit, and hoped doing work would get her mind off things. The moment that Bellatrix entered the office, all her colleagues rose from their seats and applauded. Her first reaction was to shake her head in disgust. "Really, I just got lucky."

"Bravo, bravo," applauded Bombur.

"It's the good kind of lucky," Richards nodded.

"Trust Bells to uncover the crime of the century," Petunia said.

"Fuck-a-doodle-do," Bellatrix shook her head. "This only means I'll have a metric ton of extra paperwork to do."

Upon hearing this, Bombur let out a brief laugh. "But, Bellatrix, you _love _working!_"_

Bellatrix opened her mouth to give a lippy retort, but instead nodded. "That's... a good point, Bombur. Still, all this nonsense doesn't get me any closer to finding Pettigrew's killer."

"What about that girl you had your eye on, Bells?" Petunia asked. "Is she still a suspect?"

Bellatrix rubbed her chin while diving onto the forms she had to fill out. "She's still on the list. That Muggle-born is hiding something, that's for sure. And there's definitely a connection with Pettigrew. Her name was in the ledger I found. I just can't get the pieces to fit together just yet. I'll need to question her."

When there was no response she looked up from her forms and saw that all of her three colleagues were staring at her as if they had seen water spontaneously combust in front of their very eyes. "What?" Bellatrix put down her quill. "What's wrong? You're all looking at me as if my hair's on fire."

"Y-you just said 'Muggle-born'," Jimmy Richards blinked.

"What?" Bellatrix frowned.

"You just... used the word... 'Muggle-born'," Petunia repeated.

Bellatrix sighed. Sometimes those three idiots could be so exhausting. "So? I'm sure I've used that word before..."

"Nope," Bombur said. "Trust me, I've been keeping score. Mudblood: '2578'. Muggle-born: '1'."

"Oh my god," said Richards. "She must really like that girl."

"I don't!" Bellatrix shouted back just a little too quickly. "It's just.. Ugh, you lot are so infuriating!"

It was then that Jensen called her into his office. Just before she entered, she turned towards her friends. "Just so you know, I am still not shagging any of you lot."

"Still playing hard to get," Petunia chuckled.

Once inside the office and seated in front of Jensen, her boss leaned back in his chair before he talked. "Well, Trix, you certainly stirred up a hornet's nest. We managed to spirit away all the goods before the press managed to catch wind of it. The longer we can keep this under wraps, the more chance we have to uncover the culprits. We suspect that the 'owners' of the goods will be attempting to get the items back and the Department set up a number of traps for when that happens."

"Good," Bellatrix said. "I was expecting just a few crates of illegal goods, but nothing of this magnitude. What do the other sub-departments say?"

"Every sub-department wants a gander," said Jensen. "But we're particularly worried about that shipment of SA-80's."

"SA-80's?" Bellatrix cocked her head sideways.

Jensen nodded. "SA-80 is the production name of a family of UK produced assault rifles. These types of rifles have been used as the standard light support weapon of the British armed forces since the early eighties. These particular types were enchanted to do horrible damage. Even with standard munitions, they'll literally shred people apart. Gave poor Arthur Weasley a heart-attack when I explained to him just how these weapons worked. Seriously, a Muggle-born should be in charge of the Misuse Department if you ask me."

Bellatrix blinked once, blinked twice. Jensen might as well have been speaking Japanese, for the words that came out of his mouth just made no sense. "I didn't understand a word you just said, mum."

Jensen sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. "I should really make a flow-chart for all the technology-challenged wizards and witches working in the Department. It's easy to forget so many of you have never actually been to the Muggle world," he said. "Maybe we should have a school trip out to the science museum in London at some point."

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Yeah, how about 'no'. Just give me the cliff notes."

"Muggle weapons bad. Muggle weapons hurt people. These Muggle weapons enchanted. Muggle weapons hurt people more now. We don't want enchanted Muggle weapons around," Jensen said. "Following so far?"

More than slightly irritated at being treated like a toddler, Bellatrix bit down her pride and just nodded.

"Let's just say that this development has a lot of people worried," Jensen continued. "This particular shipment was meant for a country called Wadiya, which is run by a dictator of the pettiest sort. It suggests that Muggles know more about the wizarding world than we had previously feared."

"I'm not worried about Muggles," Bellatrix shrugged. "They're witless idiots. What I'm more worried about is that those SA-whatever you call it, are probably being enchanted and traded by Muggle-borns and half-bloods. I expect pure-bloods to have no idea what those things even are or what their value is to the Muggles."

"Jesus Christ," Jensen swore, betraying his Muggle upbringing. "I hadn't thought of that. That is disturbing. And a perfect propaganda weapon for the Purity Front if it ever became public knowledge and... wait... did you just say..." Jensen frowned. "Let's back up a bit."

"About pure-bloods, like me, having no idea what those things are?" Bellatrix replied. "I thought I was clear the first time."

"No, before that. You used the word 'Muggle-born'," Jensen frowned. "Aiming to be more civil in polite conversations?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth and a slight strangled croak came out. "Merlin, not _you_ too, mum! Whatever I call the damn mudbloods, they're still damn mudbloods!"

"And just like that," Jensen chuckled. "The magic is gone... In any case, I'll have to recommend we'll keep a tight lid on our findings. We have some contacts in Scotyard Yard; I suspect these weapons were stolen from army depots. Well, to further discuss your own case," said Jensen after obviously concluding that discussing the impact enchanted weaponry would have on the Muggle world with Bellatrix would be of no use. "You're certain that Pettigrew's death is unrelated to this little side operation? Him being the center of a trafficking ring would be one hell of a motive to eliminate him."

"Think about it, Jensen," said Bellatrix. "Would those illegal goods still be there if the killer would have known about them? No, no, the killer had no idea. And the search continues."

"Very well," replied Jensen. "You know I trust your judgment, Trix. Oh, before I forget, you're taking a day off tomorrow."

Before Bellatrix could even open her mouth, Jensen was upon her. "It's Sunday tomorrow, Trix. Furthermore _all Department employees shall have at least one mandatory rest-day every ten days of full-time work. Book 2, regulation 12, sub-section 23._ I quote this to you once every ten days so you should be quite familiar with it. That rule was crafted specifically with insane workaholics like the two of us in mind. Trix, you're already in violation. You haven't had a single day off in three weeks now and we need you with a clear head. So go relax, read a book or go to a park for all I care."

Bellatrix gritted her teeth. "Murderers don't rest, Jensen."

"Perhaps they don't," he grinned at her. "But _you_ certainly will tomorrow."

"Yes... mum," The dark witch let out a heavy sigh before turning around and storming out of the office.

The first thing she saw when stepping back into the office was Jimmy hanging up a poster of the Chicago skyline to the wall next to his desk. "Your vacation won't be up for another five months, Jimmy."

"Hey, a guy can dream," Jimmy said. "Ah, Chicago. I've missed her. You should really visit there sometimes, Bella. I'm sure you'll be impressed."

Bombur scraped his throat as he got up from his desk and made a grab for his robe and hat. Being a traditional wizard, Bombur's hat was traditionally pointy. "Right, I'm off for the weekend. I'll see you cunts next Tuesday," he spoke with humor on his voice.

"Love you too, Bombur," Petunia chuckled. Bellatrix didn't look up from her work, but offered Bombur a kindly and well-meant one-fingered goodbye wave.

Being as thorough as she always was, Bellatrix cut no corners and got to working on a stack of forms declaring every single item she had found. The extra workload was fine as long as she could work in peace. However, that was practically impossible since heads of all different sub-departments coming down to her office to personally congratulate her on her catch. Arthur Weasley had been particularly annoying about it, asking all sorts of irritating questions about things she couldn't possibly know anything about. For questions about the assault rifles, she had simply referred him to Jensen since he had actually grown up in the Muggle world and knew how those wretched things actually worked.

Her afternoon was spent filling out form after form after form, trying to finish as much work as possible before that wretched day off that was looming over her would start. Somewhere around four o'clock, a house-elf popped into existence in front of her desk. "Excuse me, DCI Black," he spoke and handed her a note. "This was delivered for you."

Bellatrix took the note and unfolded it. On it was the gentle, yet stern calligraphy of her youngest sister.

'_Bella,_

_I have something urgent to discuss with you. You will meet me at the Gilded Veela at five o'clock today. Do not be late. _

_Yours,_

_Cissy._

_P.S. Unlike dear Andromeda, I will not take no for an answer. Insipid work-related excuses are not acceptable. Should you try, I will have Lucius contact your supervisor and have him send you home. Do not test me on this.'_

Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. Oh, there'd be no way in hell Jensen would be in any way impressed by anything Lucius could muster, but she had caused enough for mum recently. She sighed, crumpled up the note and tossed it in a waste basket.

So much for working overtime tonight. Damn...

"Bad news, Bells?" Petunia asked.

"An imperious summons from my dear sister," replied Bellatrix with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Jimmy chuckled. "Andromeda? But she's so nice."

"Not Andy," Bellatrix laughed. "My other sister."

"Oh... the ice-queen? Yikes," Jimmy shuddered. "I remember the time when she came by to visit you. She looked at us as if we were food or something. I got the distinct impression she was slumming."

"You're not rich or powerful enough for her to acknowledge your presence, Jimmy," Bellatrix winked.

"Oh?" Jimmy smirked. "Neither are you, lady."

"I'm family," Bellatrix shrugged. "Apparently, the rules are more lax if you're family."

The last half hour of her work week was spent thinking about her case. However, her thought on how to approach Hermione Granger, how to question her about the ledger and her ties to Pettigrew, quickly turned to how beautiful her eyes were, and now lovely the color of her long hair was.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" Bellatrix whispered to herself. Being the last person in the office, she grabbed her coat and stormed out.

* * *

After finishing up her work for the day, Bellatrix found herself in Diagon Alley and made her way to the Gilded Veela. The Veela was a bit more upscale than she was used to, but Cissy had her standards... and those standards didn't include the Leaky Cauldron. Which was a shame because the Veela didn't serve meals.

The inside of the tearoom was quite pleasant; nice oaken tables, comfy chairs, soft music playing in the background. The walls were painted in calming pastels and the friendly staff were walking about waiting tables. All in all, it was your typical upscale tearoom.

Bellatrix found herself sitting opposite to her sister and her nephew. Of course, Cissy being Cissy, her countenance was one of utter haughtiness. She treated the staff with utter disdain, as they were beneath her. One of the waitresses served their tea and Cissy started staring her away the moment she was done pouring. Apparently having recently been to the hairdressers, Cissy held her long blonde hair pinned up in a clip, partially covered by a an expensive silken bonnet. Her dress was green silk with gold threaded embroideries and patches of dragon leather. It probably cost more than Bellatrix would earn in a year.

Next to her sat Draco, looking snappy in a nice black robe. Bags of purchases from expensive boutiques stood next to him, waiting to be carried home. "Draco, aren't you a little old to be shopping with your mum?" asked Bellatrix. It wasn't meant as an insult, though the young Malfoy seemed to blush and look away. Immediately, Bellatrix felt a brief pang of regret: young Draco idolized her, and anything which could be perceived as an insult hit him twice as hard. Before Draco could say anything, however, Cissy beat him to the punch.

"Nonsense, Bella," said Cissy. "A mother's eye is required. My little dragon can't dress himself properly, I fear. He's as color-blind as his father and simply lacks the skills to properly coordinate colors."

Bellatrix looked at Draco and felt a twinge of sympathy as the young lad let out a brief sigh. Cissy could be overbearing at the best of times.

"What are you doing here anyway, sweetie?" Bellatrix asked Draco. "I know it's Saturday, but you should be at school."

Just before Draco could open his mouth to answer, Cissy once again beat him to the punch. "Oh, I pulled Draco out of that awful, awful place. He's in so much danger there! A murderer is on the loose at Hogwarts and Draco shall not return until you have found the culprit. He will not be safe there."

Draco looked away and muttered something under his breath.

"Thankfully, Lucius is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and has arranged special dispensation for Draco," Cissy spoke as she sipped her tea. "He'll be given assignments to do from the safety of home."

"Only because you made father do it! He didn't agree..."

"Draco!" Cissy admonished. "Someone has to think about your safety!"

"I was perfectly safe at Hogwarts!" Draco retorted. "Mum, I'm not completely helpless..."

"Hush, Draco," Cissy dismissed any further discussion, causing to Draco to sigh heavily and stare out the window. "Now, Bella, there was something I wanted to discuss with you."

Bellatrix sipped her own tea. "Oh?"

"I've been talking to Griselda Selwyn," Cissy said. "Her sister Gwendolyn is still unmarried. I understand she is quite lovely and Griselda has confided in me that she shares your particular... inclinations."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and groaned sightly. What Cissy really trying to match her with someone? "Cissy," Bellatrix started. "Have you been talking with Andromeda?"

"Andy voiced her concerns," Cissy replied. "But, honestly, I've been keeping my eyes open for you for quite some time. And you could do worse than a Selwyn. It's an old and pure-blooded family, worthy of marrying a Black. You have a respectable job and though you have been officially exiled from the Black family, you are not considered a blood-traitor. You certainly have the beauty... if you would just visit a hairdresser. Gwendolyn is lovely and, like I said, she shares your... inclinations."

"It's called lesbianism, Cissy!" Bellatrix snapped, attracting the attention of some of the other patrons. "You won't spontaneously combust by uttering the word once in a while!"

"Bella!" Cissy gasped.

"What?" Bellatrix replied innocently. "Want another term? What about femlover? Shappist! Tipperrrr of the vellllvetttt!"

Next to Cissy, Draco snorted and bit his lip to keep from laughing. A harsh stare from his mother silenced him again.

Bellatrix wasn't done yet, however. "Oh, here's a creative one I've heard recently; Lettuce licker!"

"Please, Bella, please!" Cissy hissed, naturally being concerned with social standing as she tutted Bellatrix into quieting down. Next to her, Draco had started an intense study of the ceiling, obviously wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Bellatrix understood that feeling quite well. "What I mean to say is this, Bella: you are in your forties now. The clock is ticking for you. If you still want to be in a proper, respectable marriage and maybe even raise some children, you are running out of time fast. I can make arrangements with the Selwyns for you. You could be married before the end of the month is done."

"... that's a week from now," Bellatrix blanched.

"Exactly," nodded Cissy.

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Maybe I don't want to be married, hm?" she challenged. "Did you ever think of that?"

"I simply don't understand why are so resistant to this idea," said Cissy. "Look at myself and Lucius. Our marriage was arranged, but love took root and flourished. Why could it not be the same for you and Gwendolyn Selwyn?"

"I need more of a reason than 'she is a lesbian' to jump headfirst into a marriage!" Bellatrix snapped. "I don't want to risk being stuck with someone I can't stand for the rest of my life! Need I remind you why I refused to tie myself to Rodolphus Lestrange in the first place?"

"This is not the same as your arranged marriage to Rodolphus, Bella dear."

"Isn't it?!" Bellatrix snapped. "You're trying to marry me off just like father tried to do! The only difference is that I actually had the chance to meet Rodolphus and learn to loathe him beforehand! So technically, what you're trying to do is even worse!"

"Bella," Cissy put down her tea. "You are being very unreasonable."

"_I_'m the one being unreasonable?!" Bellatrix snapped.

Cissy huffed slightly. "I am only trying to help you, Bella."

"Well, DON'T!" Bellatrix shrieked back, slamming her fist on the table before regaining her calm. "Cissy," she said softly. "You know I love you to bits. That's why I'm going to sit here, drink my tea and eat my scone. If you want to chat about something else, fine, but if you mention marriage again, I'll be out that door with the speed of lightning."

Cissy shook her head. "Fine," she finally whispered, frustration on her voice. "I'll just go powder my nose for a bit."

Bellatrix had known her little sister long enough to realize that 'powdering her nose' was Cissy-speak for 'I need to get away from you before I'll explode in anger'. The dark witch watched her little sister leave with some relief. Indeed, she supposed Cissy meant well, but Bellatrix was in no mood for anyone to play matchmaker for her. Honestly, it was worse enough when one of her colleagues tried setting her up, and that would only be for a date, not a full-blown high society wedding!

Meanwhile, Draco was happy to be away from his overbearing mother's sight, if only for a few minutes. "Auntie," Draco started with a grin. "That was absolutely wicked!"

"You should stand up to your mum more often, Draco," replied Bellatrix.

"Easier said than done," Draco sighed. "You don't have to live in the same house with her."

Suddenly the boy shot forward and took her hand. "Please, please, please solve this murder so things can go back to normal and I go back to school! She's driving me completely round the bend!"

Bellatrix patted Draco's hand. "I quite understand, sweetie."

"Every day away from Hogwarts is another day the Front will dig their claws deeper into Pansy," Draco sighed. "I have to get back there."

The dark witch felt some sympathy for the lad; being wedged in between an overbearing mother on one side and worrying about a girl whom he obviously was in love with on the other, her nephew was definitely caught between a rock and a hard place.

Thankfully, after Cissy returned, the subject of marriage never came up again and the two sisters finished their tea in peace. After saying their goodbyes, Bellatrix went for some last minute groceries before the shops closed and headed straight home. All the while, the encounter with Cissy weighed heavily on her mind. It occurred to her that, while Cissy obviously cared deeply for her, she really didn't understand her. Not in the way that Andy did. Unlike Bellatrix and Andy, Cissy had never left privileged high society and was quite stuck in their thought-patterns. For her, marriage was a tool, rather than a union. Love was a nice extra perk, but it simply wasn't essential.

For Bellatrix, it seemed more likely that she would became a crazy old spinster living with half a dozen kneazles. If the right person would come along, marriage wouldn't be out of the question, but it would happen on _her_ terms and nobody else's. And she certainly would never allow herself to be carted off ever again.

Of course, Cissy had been correct about one thing: Bellatrix was in her forties. That right person had better hurry.

Finally, her tenement building was in sight. With a certain amount of dread, Bellatrix realized that her day off had started.


	6. Interrogating the suspect

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 6: Interrogating the suspect_

In her career, Bellatrix had gone through several hairy situations. There'd been more than one attempt on her life, she'd faced off with three robbers trying to do a bankjob on Gringotts during her constable days and there had been a particularly nasty encounter with a vampire which had left her hospitalized for two weeks. All those incidents had been terrifying to a certain degree, but there was simply nothing Bellatrix dreaded quite much as she did a day off. Bellatrix had enough self-knowledge to know she had an obsessive quality to her personality and she just knew she'd spend her entire day off either wishing she was at work or feeling guilty about all the work she could have done while sitting around the house on her arse.

She suppressed a shudder: all day at home, alone with her thoughts... She preferred to either fill her day with things to do to keep her mind off things or, more likely, catching up to all the sleep she had missed the week before. Technically, her day off had already started with this very evening.

Still, despite all the delays, Bellatrix gotten home earlier than expected and it wasn't even all that late. Certainly, she wasn't tired enough to warrant going to bed early today. Unfortunately, she had plenty of evening left to spend.

The first task she assigned herself was to get rid of all the empty take-out boxes that had gathered in her house the past couple of weeks. Five minutes later, she admired her handiwork with satisfaction: all empty boxes had been neatly stacked on top of each other in a corner of her living room behind the couch. There was actually a good chance of those boxes being transported to the bin at some point now. _Good, that was five minutes well spent. Now what about the rest of the evening?_

Another two minutes were spent stacking the boxes into a visually and aesthetically pleasing pyramid of boxes.

Perhaps today she could finally get some reading done. Bellatrix walked over to her favorite and only reading chair and tossed an empty take-out box she missed earlier onto the floor so she could take a seat. About two months ago, she had purchased two books which had been recommended to her by her neice Nymphadora. The first one '_Gilderoy Lockheart and the Temple of Gloom_' was a book she had written off as self-indulgent tripe after reading only half a page and left it to gather dust on the coffee table. The second book, however, _'Angelina Thrills: Witch versus Wild'_ seemed to be far more interesting. However, in the two months she had owned the book, she'd only gotten to page twenty.

Only three sentences in, she found that she simply could not concentrate on the book at all and tossed it back onto the coffee table. Too many thoughts going through her head while the house was simply too quiet. Thoughts about the case, the interviews, the witnesses, the angles and, most of all, thoughts of Hermione Granger.

Bellatrix decided that the best thing to do was to just skip dinner this evening and to have a nice hot shower before going to bed after all. Tomorrow would be another day. The dark witch did just that.

While the steaming hot water poured down on her skin, she rather reconsidered. A liquid dinner sounded rather appealing. She still had that decanter of firewhiskey, after all. It was just what she needed to clear her head of errant thoughts, forget all about marriage-talk and would definitely help her sleep. And yes, why not go to bed drunk today? Wasn't today one of the highlights of her career? Why shouldn't she celebrate? If anything the copious amounts of alcohol would make her very, very sleepy. She'd just have to deal with the hangover tomorrow.

It was then that she heard sounds coming from her living room. Immediately, she froze and listened; there was definitely someone in her apartment. The dark witch grit her teeth and sprung to action. Leaving the shower running to lull the assailant in a false sense of security, she silently slipped through the shower curtain. Being careful not to alert the intruder, she grabbed a back-up wand which she had hidden underneath the sink with the help of some spellotape. Taking it firmly in hand, she pressed against the door and made her move.

The dark witch launched herself into the living room and prepared to fire a couple of curses into the room to surprise her assailant before he or she could act. Only at the last moment did she see exactly who this intruder was.

Miss Granger.

The young witch let out a surprised yelp and dove to one side, crashing into the dressoir.

Bellatrix bit back the dangerous curses and faced the young witch. "What the bloody, bloody, bloody hell are you doing here sneaking about in my apartment?! I could have seriously injured you!"

The young witch blushed brightly and looked away. "C-could you put some clothes on, please?"

It was then that Bellatrix realized she was stark naked and dripping water all over the floor.

Letting out some creative swears involving porcupines and their non-too-subtle application to unwilling rectums, she rushed into the bathroom, quickly dried herself off and came out wearing a dingy old bathrobe. Miss Granger was still standing there, still blushing. In fact, she did look a lot healthier than she had looked this morning. Still, she didn't have any reason to be here and Bellatrix wasn't about to let her forget it.

"Your apartment looks, uhm, looks nice," she said, attempting small talk.

"Liar," Bellatrix snorted, but her eyes grew wide when she saw miss Granger reaching for the only picture frame in her house. The frame was still lying face down on the table, the state in which she had left it two days ago.

"Oh, I must have knocked this over," she said and innocently took it. It was a moving picture of a young Bellatrix at Hogsmeade. There was another girl in the frame, but Bellatrix never allowed her to look at it.

"You didn't knock that over. And it's private!" Bellatrix snarled and took the picture away from Hermione, putting it on the table, again face-down. "Now," Bellatrix asked. "Again, what are you doing here?"

"I... I'm sorry," Granger looked away. "I just... wanted to talk."

"Talk?!" Bellatrix blinked and then rubbed her temples. "Talk. She wants to talk. Alright. So talk!"

The young woman bit her lip and stammered her words. "I, well, I... uhm..."

"Come on, spit it out!"

"Well, uh, I have been considering what to do with myself after graduating and I have been, uhm, thinking what possible careers I should..."

Bellatrix's narrowed her eyes. "Career options?! You break into my home, interrupt my shower and bother me after a long day of work to talk about career options?! I haven't got time for shit like this! Talk to the bleedin' HR department and leave me the hell alone!"

Due to Bellatrix's sudden outburst, the girl seemed stricken and hurt. The dark witch softened somewhat as a reaction to that and took in the sight of her; miss Granger was wearing a long white coat and she did look a lot better in jeans than she did in a school uniform, while her hair had been tied back with a large clip. "You're not here to talk about career options, are you?" Bellatrix asked softly, motioning for the young witch to sit down on the couch.

"The truth is," the young girl spoke as if somewhat embarrassed. "I've never met someone like you before..."

Bellatrix studied the girl's eyes, and then it hit her. She groaned inwardly when she realized that the girl had a crush on her. Great, that was all she needed; a love-sick puppy following her around. She was about to tell Hermione off when she realized that the young witch was actually the first ever visitor to her home who was not family. Well, at least the first visitor with good intentions.

"Look," Bellatrix said. "I realize I might have been a bit harsh, but it wouldn't be the first time that someone came to my apartment to try to kill me."

The young witch seemed shocked by this revelation. "Truly, miss Black? Did you think I came to kill you?"

"Well, you didn't knock!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

The girl offered a half-smile. "The, uhm, the front door was open," she said and pointed back to the front door of her apartment. "In fact, it still is. I was about to call out when you, well, jumped out of the shower."

Bellatrix blinked. Had she really forgotten to close the bloody door?! Somewhat embarrassed, the dark witch motioned for the girl to sit down on the couch while she strode to the door and literally threw it shut. "Right, either I'm more tired than I thought or I'm getting old," Bellatrix muttered as she plopped down in her favorite-but-not-often-used lazy reading chair.

"Miss Black, I..."

"Please, call me Bellatrix," the dark witch interrupted with a smirk. "Hell, you've seen me naked. If that's not a criteria for being on a first-name basis, I don't know what is."

The young witch smiled in spite of herself. "Hermione. Call me Hermione."

"Well, Hermione," Bellatrix said. "Welcome to my dingy little apartment. Don't mind the empty take-out boxes."

Hermione glanced to one side. "It _is_ a very nicely stacked pyramid."

"Thank you," Bellatrix nodded. "So, where do we go from here, hm?"

"To be honest," Hermione replied. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."

_Love-sick puppy indeed_. The dark witch looked her in the eye. "You're lucky you're so cute or I'd have thrown you out on your arse by now."

A blush appeared on Hermione's face before she looked away.

"Look," said Bellatrix with a sigh. "I haven't eaten yet and the Leaky Cauldron is just a few streets away. Why don't I take you out to dinner? You're here anyway and, well, talk goes better over dinner."

It was against her better judgment to encourage the girl, but Bellatrix was doing it anyway. After getting dressed and drying her hair, she and Hermione walked the two streets to the Leaky Cauldron in silence and ordered food for the both of them. They sat down in a private booth where they could talk quietly. Though it was somewhat busy in the pub on a Saturday, the booths were charmed so they could talk without being bothered by the sounds of the busy pubgoers.

"Have you ever been to the Leaky Cauldron before?" Bellatrix asked. "I have dinner here about three times a week."

"No, I don't get out much, miss B- Bellatrix," Hermione said.

"Too busy studying?"

"Something like that."

"I thought so. Would you like some wine?"

"Maybe later."

The girl... No, _Hermione_, was opening up somewhat, and had gotten considerably less nervous now that she had gotten over the initial awkwardness.

"Did you say that someone tried to kill you in your apartment?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, yes," Bellatrix replied as they waited for their food to arrive. "It happened a couple of years ago. I was on a case which involved a messy divorce and ended up with the soon-to-be ex-wife murdered. It was obvious the husband was behind it, but I was still gathering the evidence I would need for a solid conviction. Apparently, I was getting too close. An assassin turned up in my apartment."

"That's horrible!" Hermione gasped.

"Foolish too," said Bellatrix. "The arrogant bastard never realized that even if I'd be dead, someone else would just pick up the case. It happened much like just now; I was in the shower, he was creeping around in my living room. I didn't have an extra wand in the bathroom at the time, so I had to catch him by surprise."

"How did you survive?"

"I ripped my shower curtain down, threw over him, wrestled his wand from him and then took him down with his own wand," Bellatrix spoke somewhat proudly. She could tell by looking at Hermione that the young witch had the entire scene playing out in her mind. Judging from the slight blush, that also included the nudity. The dark witch could only shake her head; Hermione was just getting cuter by the second.

"What happened next, Bellatrix?" Hermione asked.

"Well, attempted murder of an officer of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a serious offense," Bellatrix said. "The would-be assassin sang like a bird to escape a Dementor's Kiss. The husband was implicated and was charged with both murder and conspiracy with intent to murder. He's still rotting in Azkaban."

It was then that their food arrived and they were soon both enjoying their dinner. As the evening continued, the two of them chatted about a myriad of subjects and Bellatrix soon found out that Hermione loved to talk about her intellectual pursuits.

"... Theory of magic is my favorite subject," said Hermione. "It's fascinating. And based upon what I've learned, I have even developed a spell of my own."

"Really? At so young an age?" Bellatrix had to admit she was impressed. This did not go unnoticed by Hermione, as she was beaming with pride.

"I've temporarily christened it the Reflecto Malificarum spell, and before you say anything, yes I realize the name does need some work," Hermione said. "It's basically a protection spell against minor hexes. It's a temporary charm you cast upon yourself and will reflect most minor hexes back to the original caster."

Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "Interesting. Would this also work for more powerful and dangerous spells? Unforgivables, even?"

"In theory, it might be possible, but a lot more research would have to be done. As of yet, it doesn't work when the magic is too powerful, but it _does _work out well when people try to hex you," Hermione grinned slightly.

"Such as Purity Front idiots trying to bully you," Bellatrix smirked.

"The last person who tried was Pansy Parkinson," Hermione nodded. "She was choking up frogs for half a day."

"Frogs that were intended for you," said Bellatrix. "Well done. Had a lot of trouble with people trying to hex you?"

"You have no idea," Hermione looked sad for a moment. "I'm not exactly a popular person. But in any case, the spell is in review with professor McGonagall and other teachers. It might be officially released soon, so I'd better think of a proper name fast."

"Prestigious. Eighteen and already a spell to your name," said Bellatrix. "I'm impressed, and I don't impress easily."

Hermione blushed slighty and muttered a demure thanks. Apparently, Hermione didn't often receive praise and didn't quite know how to deal with it. Still, the very existence of Hermione's new spell proved that the young girl had been so bullied that she had been desperate enough to develop a counter-measure.

Bellatrix motioned for the server to bring them some more wine. This was starting to become a pleasant evening after all. Bellatrix had found the young witch to be clever, witty and an equal sparring partner. She hadn't had a proper conversation during a date for years. The word rolled around in her head for a moment. _A date? Is that was this is? _Certainly, Bellatrix couldn't help but notice how Hermione was getting more flirty as the evening progressed. The dark witch was only too happy to reciprocate.

"Now, I haven't been to school in a while," Bellatrix smirked. "But I'm quite certain you're not allowed to be off school grounds unless they drastically changed the rules since I went there."

Hermione shook her head. "True. I snuck out of Hogwarts, but they won't notice I'm gone. As far as anyone is concerned, I'm studying in the restricted section of the library and don't want to be disturbed."

"Hm," Bellatrix laughed briefly. "It's usually the good girls who the biggest rush from breaking the rules."

Hermione seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I have to admit being here with you is rather exciting."

Bellatrix offered the young witch a sultry grin. "Is it, now?"

Hermione blushed a bright red as she suddenly lowered her gaze to the table. "Well, uh..."

Bellatrix could see that the girl was aching for a change of subject, so any further flirting would have to be put on the backburner. No reason to scare the lovely young woman off, after all. "What is it you wanted to ask me before?"

"Hm? Oh. Oh!" Hermione perked up. "Yes, I was wondering why you chose to become a law enforcer."

Bellatrix looked at her with a sideways glance. "Did McGonagall put you up to this, by any chance?"

"No, I swear," Hermione smiled. "I just want to know."

"For your research... about Hogwarts and its influence on magical society?" Bellatrix asked with a certain suspicion on her voice.

It was quiet for a moment. "Yes!" Hermione quickly blurted out, "for my research."

Bellatrix chuckled and leaned back in her seat. "Well, I was a troublemaker, you've probably heard that by now."

"Professor McGonagall told me some... outlandish stories."

"Ah, you listened to me, then. Good girl," Bellatrix grinned. "Though I was a troublemaker, I always had a nose for sniffing out people's motives. Joining the Department was a natural choice, really."

Hermione nodded. "It takes a troublemaker to know a troublemaker."

"Exactly!" Bellatrix snapped her fingers. "When I told old man Dumbledore that I wanted to join the Department, well, let's just say it was the first and only time I saw him being actually surprised. He even wrote a letter of recommendation for me. I..." Bellatrix paused for a moment. Should she really show it to Hermione?

"Alright," Bellatrix said while taking out her wallet. "But I swear to you, if you laugh, you will sorely regret it."

From among the galleons and sickles, Bellatrix fished a small, bent and faded moving photograph and handed it to Hermione. It was a picture of herself, around Hermione's age, on her first day on the job. She was standing guard outside of a sweet shop. Uniformed and on patrol on Diagon Alley, she did her best to look dapper while wearing an oversized custodian helmet on top of her head.

"Why would I laugh?" Hermione said as she handed back the photograph.

"Because my little sisters did," Bellatrix snorted. "And do... They didn't have a helmet my size, so I had to make do."

"Law Enforcement is an honorable profession," Hermione said. "It's something to be proud of."

Bellatrix squirmed a little at the compliment. "Yeah, well, even on the force I was somewhat of a maverick. I refused to kiss arse, I rubbed the wrong people the wrong way, and I quickly got a reputation for being unbribable."

"Unbribable?"

"Oh, you have no idea what kind of corruption goes around in Ministry circles. Sometimes an officer is slipped a couple of galleons to make a piece of evidence disappear or a report altered in a suspect's favor. Some of them are so brazen about it, they don't even attempt to hide it. I once knew an inspector who had even had a price list which he presented to his suspects. X galleons to alter evidence, Y galleons to make it disappear, that sort of thing. He did quite a bit of business before I reported him to my superiors. They _had_ to act then."

"Surely they must have been grateful that you reported him."

"Hah!" Bellatrix laughed. "Absolutely not. It basically made me a pariah. I just don't do corruption and I won't tolerate it in others. Have you seen the state of my apartment, Hermione? Do I look like someone who takes bribes?"

Hermione laughed briefly as she leaned forward and listened to Bellatrix's story. "Not at all."

"My dignity doesn't have a price. And the higher-ups don't like incorruptible people," Bellatrix said. "They think we're scary and unpredictable. I was passed up for promotion time and again, even though I was better at my job than any of them! I tried to get a position with the Hit Wizards, but all my applications were blocked by higher-ups. I was given all the shit assignments, probably hoping that I'd quit the force. I feared I'd spend all my days finding lost kneazles."

Bellatrix shook her head. "Then one day, some fifteen years ago, I was approached by my current boss, Jensen. He invited me to join a new sub-department he was setting up, Magical Homicides. He was looking for talented, incorruptable people and told me I'd be perfect for the job. I jumped at the opportunity. All the incorruptible mavericks the sub-departments wanted to get rid off ended up in that office. We're a small and tight-knit bunch of hardheaded cynics. I just… belong with them, I suppose."

The dark witch didn't know why she was opening up to her, a mudblood of all people. She supposed that the story had been crying to be let out for long enough. Truth be told, it was delight to talk to Hermione; she was enthusiastic, eager to learn, eager to share what she had learned. If only the pure-bloods would have had such drive, it might have stemmed the tide of their decline.

As the night continued and people started to leave the pub to return home, Hermione and Bellatrix were still merrily chatting along.

"... and then that no-good nephew of yours shoots a hex as me and before I knew it, my two front teeth were starting to grow and grow and grow," said Hermione as she sipped her wine.

"Ah, Densaugeo!" Bellatrix laughed. "That's a classic."

Hermione huffed slightly. "There's nothing classic or classy about it!"

Bellatrix grinned at her. "Shall I tell you something terrible? I taught him that hex."

"You what?!" Hermione sputtered. "But... you... how..."

"Careful, Hermione," Bellatrix took a sip from her own wine while shooting her a smirk. "Don't swallow your tongue."

"Why would you teach Malfoy such a horrible, horrible hex?!" Hermione demanded.

"Told you I was a terror when I was your age," Bellatrix shrugged. "Don't worry, I only taught him minor prank spells. I did much worse in my day. Honestly, Hermione, if you would have met me during my Hogwarts years, we wouldn't be speaking. I'd have hexed you into next Sunday for daring to even look in my general direction."

"I find it hard to believe someone as beautiful and smart as you would be such a hellion," spoke Hermione, and immediately blushed. "Did... did I say that out loud?"

"Might have been the wine talking," Bellatrix winked. When it came to alcohol, Hermione was quite a light-weight, it seemed.

"How are you still single?" asked Hermione. "I mean, you are clever, you have a good job, you look... really nice."

_Getting a bit personal, aren't you?_ Bellatrix thought, but didn't really mind the question all that much. "There's a very simple explanation for that. Nobody has ever been able to stand being around me for longer than a day," Bellatrix laughed, realizing that she really wasn't all that far away from the truth. "I could ask the same question about you, Hermione. A cute, smart girl like you and still single. No boyfriend?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Or a girlfriend?"

Hermione froze slightly, but then shook her head. "A few... never really went anywhere."

Bellatrix took a sip from her wine. "Yeah, I know what that's like." Bellatrix hadn't meant for that sound as bitter as it did. The two women shared a brief moment of sympathy for each other.

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose I'm just too focused on my schoolwork."

Bellatrix smirked. "Yeah, I know what that's like too. Still isn't right, though. Someone like you should have suitors lining up."

The girl offered a sweet, but somewhat sad smile. "Not really. Or rather, really not."

"How typical," Bellatrix sighed. "That the Gryffindor-swine are too blind to see the pearl walking among them." It was a flirt, pure and simple. And Hermione's blush and stammered thank you indicated that it had definitely worked.

"Tell me," Bellatrix crossed her arms while looking at the girl intently. "Has McGonagall told you about the time Slytherin occupied Gryffindor Tower?"

"No," Hermione frowned. "When did this happen?"

"When I was fourteen," Bellatrix laughed. "I know because I was there. Best prank I've ever pulled."

Hermione leaned on the table as Bellatrix told her tale, sipping her wine ever so often. "Well," started Bellatrix. "There were eight of us, and I was the ring-leader. We waited until the big Quidditch game of that year had started. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and the grand majority of the student body would watching. We hatched a plot to take their precious common room from them. Now, my little sister Andromeda was our secret weapon; the Gryffindor prefect was patrolling the halls, pretty much wishing he was at the game and 'found' Andy on his route. Now Andy was a plucky and sweet first year at the time, well-known for being homesick often and had turned up the waterworks. The prefect either took pity on her or got fed up with the crying and let her into the common room hoping to calm her down. He left her there and went back on patrol, thinking Andromeda was so cute and innocent that he never expected subterfuge from her."

"Oh, no," Hermione squeezed her eyes shut while laughing. "Your 'cute and innocent' little sister let you in, didn't she?"

"Yes indeed she did! Andy might have looked cute and innocent, but she was Slytherin through and through!" Bellatrix laughed. "We struck and we struck hard. We invaded the tower. Now, this wasn't vandalism, mind you. We didn't do any damage to anyone's private belongings. We were pulling a prank, not aiming for being expelled, after all. First thing we did was change the Gryffindor colors to Slytherin green and hung up paintings of famous Slytherins. Then we turtled up, set up traps, hexed the doors and got ready for war. When the Gryffindors came back from the game, which they lost by the way, they found their common room fully occupied by 'wicked Slytherin rotters' as they say. It took them five hours to dislodge us. Five hours! They finally came in through the windows with brooms and overwhelmed us. It was the only thing we hadn't anticipated. Though we were sent packing to Slytherin, we were hailed as conquering heroes. Draco tells me it's still talked about in Slytherin to this day. Ah, good memories."

"Oh, god," Hermione laughed briefly. "Professor McGonagall must have been furious! What did the headmaster say?"

Bellatrix sipped her wine and shot Hermione a grin. "Old man Dumbledore was rather amused by the whole thing and praised our cleverness and bravery. He gave us fifty points for style. That put us in the lead, and because it was the last week before the end of that year, Gryffindor couldn't catch up and Slytherin won the house cup. Hm, next time you're in your common room, check underneath the armoire next to the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitory. You'll find a loose floorboard. We left a present there. Don't worry, it's totally harmless."

Hermione shook her head. "I can see why Gryffindor would want to forget that ever happened."

"Hermione," spoke Bellatrix. "I cannot believe you spent nearly seven years at Hogwarts without ever pulling a single prank. Come on. Share."

Bellatrix watched the lovely girl as she seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Well, there might have been..."

"Yessss?" Bellatrix smirked.

"Okay," Hermione seemed to think for a moment, then smiled and put her arms on the table. "This happened in my third year. I mentioned Pansy Parkinson, right? Well, she loved to torment me even then. I was in the library, studying as usual, and she hit me with a paper shredding jinx. Every piece of paper I'd touch would instantly shred itself beyond recognition. Unfortunately, the papers I was holding at at the time belonged to an assignment I'd been working on. Parkinson laughed. Weeks of painstaking research was gone in less than a second and before I could help myself, I started crying. That only made Parkinson laugh even harder. But when I was done, crying I was angry. I was more angry than I had ever been in my entire life. I wanted revenge, pure and simple."

"Oh, I like where this is going," Bellatrix smirked before pouring herself another glass of wine.

"That very evening, for the first time ever, I broke curfew and snuck out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night," Hermione said.

"Hm," Bellatrix purred. "The first time is always the most exciting, Hermione."

Not picking up on the obvious double-entrendre, Hemione continued with her story. "I scoured the edges of the Forbidden Forest looking for the biggest and fattest spiders I could find. Then, I traced the path Hagrid would take for that morning's Care for Magical Creatures class and found a narrowing in the path where the students would have to walk single file. It was the perfect place to set up my trap. I put the spiders in bubbles and levitated them into a tree with branches above the path. Then, I went back to Hogwarts and to bide my time. The next morning, I trailed behind the Slytherins while Hagrid was leading us through the forest. The moment Parkinson passed underneath the tree, I quietly whispered the spell to make the bubbles pop. All the spiders poured down onto Parkinson. She screamed and screamed and I just laughed and laughed. Then she ran off, tripped and fell face-down into a muddy bog. And then I laughed even harder."

"Ha!" Bellatrix grinned. "You have a mean streak, Hermione."

"I am proud to say that not a single spider was harmed in the execution of my revenge," Hermione added. "Which is more than I could say for Parkinson's diginity."

The evening was filled with more chatting with the occasional flirt thrown in. Bellatrix's flirts were a lot more subtle than Hermione's clumsy attempts, but, as always, she was just so cute. In fact, they had chatted until the pub's closing time. Bellatrix walked Hermione to her apartment where she could floo to Hogwarts. Standing in front of the communal floo, Hermione and Bellatrix stared into each other's eyes.

"Thank you," Hermione said. "I had a wonderful evening."

"I enjoyed your company," Bellatrix admitted.

Hermione looked away for a moment. "I don't think... I want to leave."

"... I don't think I want to let you leave."

Maybe it was the wine going to their heads, as they were both more than a little tipsy. Maybe it was the heat of the moment. Maybe it was just lust. Whatever the reason, the dark witch could no longer resist the lovely young woman in front of her. Hermione stiffened somewhat when Bellatrix's lips touched hers. The dark witch started out soft and gentle, being careful not to overwhelm the lovely young woman. But when Hermione wrapped her arms around Bellatrix's waist, all bets were off.

Her warmth, her closeness... Hermione was intoxicating. Bellatrix gently pushed her lips apart with the tip of her tongue, starting a sweet invasion of her Hermione's mouth. Their tongues touched, gently at first, but soon enough swirling around each other. Hermione wasn't quite an experienced kisser, judging by the fact that she bumped her nose into Bellatrix's several times. But she certainly made up for that with enthusiasm. Hermione moaned into Bellatrix's mouth as the kiss progressed. They held each other as the kiss was finally broken, and Bellatrix could feel the girl's heart beat in her chest.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione asked nervously. "C-could I... stay with you tonight?"

The dark witch smiled and gently ran her fingers through Hermione's hair. "Are you sure? Because I don't think I can stop myself if you're not."

Hermione nodded ever so slightly. It was the invitation Bellatrix had been waiting for. The dark witch found herself pushing the young witch against the wall and kissing her hard on the lips. Hermione seemed startled at first, but it didn't take long for her return the kiss.

"Apartment," Bellatrix ordered between kisses. Hermione was only too happy to comply.

Once up the stairs, Bellatrix kicked the door shut behind them as the kissing couple made their way to the bedroom, hands roaming and clothes being shed on the way there.

All the while, the rational part of Bellatrix's mind was screaming at her to stop what she was doing; she was a pure-blood, Hermione was a mudblood. Bellatrix was easily twenty years her senior. And, most poignantly, she was about to make love to a suspect in her own murder investigation.

Thankfully, the rest of Bellatrix's mind told the rational part to shut the hell up and enjoy the ride.

Sweet Merlin, Hermione was beautiful. Slender and with creamy soft skin. Soul-piercing beautiful brown eyes. Bellatrix could see that Hermione was one big bundle of nerves as she lay on her back in her bed while Bellatrix hovered over her.

_'Merlin'_, Bellatrix closed her eyes. '_It really is her first time...' _She'd slept with plenty of women in the past, but this would be something completely different than she was used to.

"Are you scared?" Bellatrix asked as gently as she could.

Hermione nodded slightly. "A little," her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "But... I want... I want you to..."

Hermione's pants and shoes had been shed on the way to the bedroom, but she still wore her white blouse. The dark witch decided that it had to go. With the patience of a ten year old unwrapping a christmas gift, Bellatrix unbuttoned the blouse from top to bottom. There was a sharp intake of breath from Hermione with every single button loosened and, after what seemed to be an eternity, Bellatrix parted her blouse, revealing creamy white skin and a beige bra.

"You're so beautiful," Bellatrix whispered. The dark witch gently pressed a hand on the girl's slender and perfect stomach, feeling the softness of her skin. Immediately, Hermione shuddered underneath her touch. With the amount of sensitivity Hermione was showing, Bellatrix knew she had to be gentle and careful with the girl. But, by jove, she enjoyed a challenge.

Hermione silently supported herself on her elbows while snaking out of the blouse, never breaking eye-contact with Bellatrix. The dark witch smirked and made her move, slowly sliding her wand out of its holster while Hermione's eyes were locked on hers. With a flick of her wand, the magic at Bellatrix's command ripped the bra from Hermione's chest, causing it to fly over the dark witch's head and ended up hanging from a lampshade. The young witch yelped and instinctively crossed her arms in front of her breasts.

Bellatrix cackled slightly. "You... are... so... cute," she laughed before tossing her wand to the floor. Hermione relaxed somewhat, took a deep breath and revealed herself to Bellatrix. Obviously self-conscious about her body, the young witch was afraid to look her in the eye. The dark witch needed something to catch Hermione attention again, and she knew just the thing. Having left most of her robe on the floor in the living room, Bellatrix started loosening her tunic. That got Hermione's attention, alright. Bellatrix could hear Hermione's breath catch in her throat the moment she lifted her tunic over her head and bared herself to the young girl. She was most gratified at the admiring looks that followed.

The dark witch lay next to Hermione for a moment, softly caressing her cheek with the tips of her fingers.

"Okay," Hermione stammered, her voice almost an octave higher than before. "I lied... I'm terrified..."

"Don't worry," said Bellatrix. "You're in good hands."

Hermione nodded. "I'm g-glad one of us knows what she's doing," Hermione said.

Bellatrix was determined to do her best to give Hermione a wonderful experience. That wouldn't be difficult, however, as Hermione shivered underneath the slightest touch. Having Bellatrix rolling on top of her was the sweetest kind of torture for her. Pinned down to the bed, the young witch squirmed as Bellatrix deftly found all the sensitive spots on her body. Her fingertips slid over Hermione's thighs, circled the sensitive flesh around her bellybutton, her hands gently cupped Hermione's soft breasts. The young witch cried out when Bellatrix softly bit down on her neck; she felt Hermione's arms wrap around her in response, sharp fingernails digging into her shoulders. Soft skin slid over softer skin as Bellatrix hungrily kissed Hermione on the mouth; the young witch was hesitant at first, but as soon become more comfortable by the assault.

To her delight, Bellatrix found that Hermione was getting more daring and started to touch her back. Of course, she was quite inexperienced, so her attempts were significantly more clumsy than Bellatrix's more subtle attempts. However, Hermione was a quick study, and she hadn't over-exaggerated her own eagerness to learn. Still, Bellatrix would have nothing of it, not yet anyway. She was the who was in control right now, and there'd be plenty of time for experiments later. The dark witch roughly pushed her back to the bed with one hand, pressing her weight down upon her, while her other hand slid down over her abdomen. Hermione let out a strangled whimper as Bellatrix worked her magic; the young witch writhed, overcome with pleasure as Bellatrix slowly kissed her way downward.

The dark witch had slept with plenty of women before; meaningless, fleeting pleasure, often under the influence of far too much alcohol. But this night... this night was something she wanted to remember.

Hermione let out a cry and threw her head back when Bellatrix reached her destination. Hermione's nails dug into the mattress as the dark witch mercilessly continued her assault. But no, that would be too easy; Bellatrix stopped and kisses trailed off to Hermione's inner thighs and lower belly. The release of her mounting pleasure now denied, her young witch looked down at her with pleading eyes, begging her to continue. Bellatrix let her suffer a while, sliding over Hermione's body as the young witch whimpered beneath her. She lay next to Hermione, holding her and kissing her while her nimble fingers finished what she had started. The beautiful Hermione shuddered as sweet release finally came, crying out while clutching onto Bellatrix.

Drenched in sweat and panting from the exertion, Hermione lay in Bellatrix's arms. It was obvious to her that the young witch loved being held, and Bellatrix was only too happy to oblige. "B-bellatrix?" asked Hermione while she ran a hand through Bellatrix's dark curls.

"Hm, pet?" Bellatrix replied.

"Pet," Hermione smiled. "I like that."

"Pet it is, then," Bellatrix grinned.

"Bellatrix, I... I want to... make you feel..."

"Sssshhhhh," Bellatrix silenced the stammering girl by playing two fingers on Hermione's lips. "Say no more, pet, say no more," Bellatrix chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues met and Bellatrix carefully rolled Hermione on top of her. The young witch seemed to be ready to do some experimentation of her own. The ice was broken and the young witch was no longer as shy or afraid.

Bellatrix was patient with her; Hermione tried to be gentle, but fumbled ever so often. And she was just so damn cute when she asking for permission to touch Bellatrix. '_Can I touch... Does this feel good? Did I do that right?'_

At first, Hermione mimicked Bellatrix's earlier moves, as was expected. But Hermione had plenty of surprises in her, such as finding out that Bellatrix was ticklish if her bellybutton was rubbed the right way. The chuckle that followed as a result was perceived as a reaction to her inexperience caused a sad look of hurt to cross her features. '_Merlin_', Bellatrix thought. '_She's such a fragile creature'._

The dark witch gave Hermione all the time to learn and experiment. Hermione started focusing her attention on Bellatrix's breasts, gently teasing an erect nipple with the tip of her tongue. Bellatrix's quickening breath was all the encouragement the young witch needed. Truth be told, Bellatrix almost lost it when Hermione carefully massaged one of her breast while nibbling on her earlobe.

Getting even more daring, Hermione's soft fingers were up for a little exploration. Hermione lay next to Bellatrix pressing into her with one leg draped over the dark witch's thigh while rubbing her cheek against Bellatrix's breast.

'_Perfect, just perfect,'_ Bellatrix felt her breath quicken as she felt Hermione's soft breasts against her side while soft fingers slowly trailed down her abdomen. The dark witch needed to fight back her own release the moment Hermione finally dared to touch between her legs.

Every gentle, rhythmic stroke followed by a sharper intake of breath as Bellatrix was fast becoming overwhelmed with fantastic pleasure. The dark witch caught a look of the intensity of Hermione's expression... an expression would wouldn't look out of place on a biology student who's dissecting a frog. '_Brainy girls are the best,'_ Bellatrix almost laughed. Being under intense scrutiny, Hermione seemingly perceived the slight grin as criticism. "I am doing this right?" Hermione whispered softly, doubt obvious on her voice.

"Shut... up... already... and keep... going!" Bellatrix husked. Merciful and wonderful release followed quickly.

Before long, Hermione knew exactly how to drive her over the edge. The two lovers were on a more equal level after that, touching and caressing each other with gusto. Lovemaking to each _other_ was even better and the night progressed unabated: kissing, making love, holding each other.

It was comical to Bellatrix, really; of all the experienced women she had been with over the years, the best night of her life had been with a muggle-born virgin. Oh, the irony.

After what seemed to be a blissful eternity, the two lovers lay embracing each other, half covered with the duvet while their sweat-drenched bodies lay glistening in the light of the moon pouring in through the small bedroom window.

"Bloody hell, you're not even tired," said Bellatrix, still panting as Hermione lay her head on her chest. She wasn't kidding: the young witch had seemingly boundless energy. So much that Bellatrix was starting have trouble keeping up with her. "I must be getting old."

"No," Hermione craned her neck to briefly brush lips with Bellatrix. "It's just because... never mind. Don't worry about it," she said quickly and settled back in the embrace. "Let's just hold each other for a bit?"

_Odd reaction_, thought Bellatrix, but decided against spoiling the mood. "Are you sure you've never done this before, pet?" Bellatrix whispered with a smirk. "Shagging between the bookstacks after all, have you?" she smirked.

"No," Hermione smiled at her. "You're my first. Sweet Merlin, that was so wonderful."

"You're not the only one who enjoyed herself tonight, Pet," Bellatrix winked.

Hermione shook her head. "I couldn't possibly have made you feel as good as you made me feel."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Bellatrix grinned as she leaned in for a kiss. "You're a fast learner."

Hermione improved a lot of skills this night. One of them certainly was kissing; no longer a beginner nose-bumper, Hermione took the lead and pushed Bellatrix onto her back, probing her lovers' mouth with her nimble tongue.

When she finally, reluctantly, broke the kiss, Hermione snuggled against Bellatrix again. "I wish this night could last forever."

"You really are cute," Bellatrix told the young witch, "but considering you're not tired and I still have quite some energy left in me, well..."

Hermione giggled and more lovemaking was eagerly welcomed. Somewhere during the night, the dark witch found sleep. In truth, Bellatrix slept more deeply and more comfortably than she had in years. The sun was already in the sky when she finally did wake up. Bellatrix smiled when remembering the wonderful sensations.

She stretched and let out a groan. "Hermione," she whispered as she felt around in bed with her eyes closed.

Empty.

Suddenly she was wide awake and shot up to sit in bed. Gone. Hermione was gone. The other side of her bed had gone completely cold.

_Figures_. Bellatrix laughed at her own foolishness. A laugh turned into a cackle. Oh, this was so typical! So very typical! Of course Hermione was gone. Why had she expected anything else? The young witch had gotten what she wanted and then she had left. Story of her life.

_'Because they always leave. Always,' _Bellatrix sighed.

Just as an embittered Bellatrix was about to let out a few anguished curses, her Hermione appeared in the doorway, wearing one of Bellatrix's bathrobes. It was white and fluffy, and Hermione's honey-brown wavy bed hair on top of the white fluff just added to the image of cuteness. She was holding two mugs in her hands. With the sun coming in through the window behind her, she looked much like an angel, complete with a halo made from the light of the sun.

"I heard you laugh," she spoke with a soft tone. "I hope I didn't wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully. I wanted to fix us some breakfast, but I couldn't find anything edible in the pantry. So I just made us two mugs of tea instead."

Hermione put both mugs on the nightstand before removing the bathrobe and returning to bed.

The dark witch was utterly stunned by this unexpected development while Hermione snuggled up against her. "You... you stayed," Bellatrix whispered softly while clutching onto the girl more tightly than she had intended. "You're still here with me..."

Hermione seemed surprised by Bellatrix's astonishment. "But... why would I leave? Did I do something wrong? Am I supposed to leave after spending the night with a lady? I might not have much experience, but... that doesn't sound right."

"No, it's just that... it doesn't happen very often," Bellatrix laughed to herself and offered Hermione the warmest smile she could muster right before kissing her on the forehead.


	7. Confronting the suspect

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 7: Confronting the suspect_

And so Bellatrix and Hermione spent the morning lazying about in bed, chatting, snuggling, drinking their tea and generally enjoying themselves. For Bellatrix, this was new terrain; oh she had had plenty of one-nighters before, but Hermione was the first whom had actually stayed with her afterward. It was not that she was complaining, of course, but she was sort of at a loss what to do. The best thing she could come up with was to let the young witch come up with the ideas and take it from there.

"I should be studying, you know?" Hermione spoke while Bellatrix took a moment to nuzzle the nape of her neck.

"I'm glad you're not," Bellatrix replied. "Besides, it's Sunday."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am too," the young witch shifted and lay her head on the dark witch's shoulder. The young witch looked to be really comfortable using Bellatrix as her pillow. "What do you want to do?"

"Well," Bellatrix smirked and stroked the brunette's cheek. "I might have an idea or two."

"I was thinking more along the lines of breakfast and spending the rest of the day," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Ah, that's boring," Bellatrix groaned slightly.

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, what do you usually do on a Sunday?"

"Working. Or when I'm not working, I'm usually catching up on the sleep I missed the rest of the week," Bellatrix said. "I'll be honest, pet, I have no idea how to entertain you today. This is new and unfamiliar terrain for me."

Hermione seemed lost in thought for a moment. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in response. "Pet, you're about to say something I'm really not going to like, aren't you?"

A half-smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Bellatrix. What if... I showed you the Muggle world?"

The moments the words came out of Hermione's mouth, the dark witch felt as if a ton of bricks had landed on her. "You want me to do what?!" she blurted out. "Are you daft? I might catch something!"

"You must have wondered," Hermione pressed.

"Are you high?!" Bellatrix raised her voice. "NO!"

"Come now, there's a whole world out there to explore which you never knew existed," Hermione tried as she rolled on top of the older witch and looked her in the eyes. "Don't tell me you're not curious."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, grabbed the sides of Hermione's head and kissed her on the lips in a vain attempt to shut her up. "You're insane. I'm sure the Muggle world is nice and all that, but... it has all manner of smelly Muggles in it! That's a bit of a downside, don't you think?"

Hermione sighed briefly. "You _do _realize my parents are Muggles, right?"

The dark witch sighed as Hermione rolled on her side, waiting for her reply. "Alright, I'm willing to accept that some Muggles might be somewhat less smelly than others."

Hermione sat up and slipped out of bed. "You see?" she called back after slipping into the living room, presumably to pick up her clothes. A disappointed Bellatrix realized there'd be no more bed fun this morning; another thing to blame on the smelly Muggles! A few moments later, Hermione came back and tossed her clothes on the bed. "You don't even realize just how prejudiced you are. Come on, get dressed."

Grumbling, the dark witch complied. Hermione was all but determined to show her the Muggle world. "I don't think this is a good idea, pet."

The young witch looked at her in an imperious, determined and, most of all, cute manner. "The best way to eliminate prejudice is to educate!"

Bellatrix cocked her head sideways. "You honestly believe that, don't you?"

"I do, and it might be helpful for your work too. What if one of your cases requires you to go to the Muggle world?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I'd hand it to Richards. He's a half-blood with Muggle experience."

"God, you are impossible!" Hermione pressed. "Look, you're going with me to the Muggle world whether you like it or not!"

Bellatrix crossed her arms; she'd heard of Hermione's tendency to be bossy from Draco, but she had not experienced it. Gone was the timid, shy girl she'd taken to her bed yesterday. In fact, the young woman in front of her just might be getting a little _too _assertive. If Hermione had addressed her like this yesterday, she might just have thrown the young witch out on her arse. As it stood now, however, Bellatrix found the young witch's new-found confidence amusing.

Still, going into the Muggle world? She'd have to wear old clothes because she feared she would never get the smell out. Any self-respecting Black would never set foot in the Muggle world by voluntary choice.

Then again, Andromeda had and she definitely wasn't insane. And, of course, Bellatrix was a Black... and a Black could do _anything _and excel at it, even if that would include going to the Muggle world. Honestly, _toujours pur._ What had it ever done for her lately? What had it done for her _ever_?

"Oh, I can't believe I'm doing this," Bellatrix sighed heavily.

"You will?!" Hermione uttered in complete surprise until she caught herself. "Oh, you will!" she added after regaining her confidence.

"Let's get it over with, then."

First, however, a shower. To her delight, Bellatrix found out that her tiny shower actually fit two people if they squeezed together tightly. Hermione hissed when Bellatrix pushed her bare back against the cold tiles of the shower wall. They kissed hungrily underneath the hot water raining down upon them from the shower-head. The dark witch's arms wrapped around Hermione, causing the young witch to moan into her mouth as breasts pressed against breasts and abdomen pressed against abdomen. To her delight, Bellatrix noted that Hermione had become quite a bit more aggressive since last night; the young woman's arms snaked around her back, raking her nails along her spine until her hands rested on her behind.

From birth, Bellatrix had been taught that pure-bloods were the very paragons of wizardkind, the best, the brightest and the most powerful of all wielders of magic. Now, later in life, the dark witch had seen just too many drooling, inbred idiot pure-bloods to believe that was strictly true.

Right now, in her very arms, was such a wonderful creature; intelligent, beautiful and possessing such a gentle spirit, full of drive, full of hope. She was a mudblood showing all the qualities pure-bloods were supposed to possess and more. Bellatrix moaned slightly when she felt a soft hand glide over her back until it rested on the back of her head. Their tongues swirled around one other after their lips met yet again.

Bellatrix grinned before kissing a trail from Hermione's chin, across her neck before gently biting down on Hermione's shoulder. This sweet, wonderful girl was like putty in her hands.

Yes, Hermione was a mudblood. And no, Bellatrix couldn't care less. Because Hermione Granger was _magnificent._

After stretching the inevitable for about half an hour of bonus sensual pleasures, Bellatrix was standing in front of the mirror while Hermione transfigured her clothing for the trip. "Tell me again why I can't wear my regular clothes?"

"Hm, they rather stand out," Hermione said as she put the finishing touch. "Not many people wear corsets these days. How's this?"

Bellatrix wasn't impressed with her visage. A nondescript pair of brown boots, a pair of blue jeans with matching belt and, worst of all, a slightly oversized pink fuzzy sweater. "I look ridiculous. And why am I so pink?"

"I think you look nice."

"Just a slight alteration," Bellatrix said as she tapped the pink sweater with her wand, changing the color into a deep black. After putting on her silver vulture-skull pendant, she felt she was somewhat presentable at least. The jeans didn't have a holster for her wand, so she would have to hide it in her coat.

Though the Leaky Cauldron was only a few streets away and she had been there countless times before, the trip felt as if taking a century. Her entire career, she had avoided the Muggle-world like the plague, sticking to the hidden wizarding quarters, or using either the floo network to get around or even flying over Muggle-London on a broom from far above. And now, because of a girl, she'd be jumping head-first into the abyss.

Without speaking a word after entering the pub, Bellatrix watched as Hermione approached the one exit to the Leaky Cauldron she had never, ever used. Hermione offered her an encouraging smile, but it was not enough.

"Just a moment," she told Hermione and rushed over to the bar. "Horace, fire-whiskey, please. And make it a double."

"There you go, luv. I'll just put it on the slate," replied the friendly bartender on duty.

Bellatrix gulped down the beverage in one go and slammed down the glass, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down to her stomach.

"Little bit of dutch courage," Bellatrix told Hermione as the girl shot her a questioning look. "I'm ready."

Bellatrix took a very deep breaths. _Come on, Bella, you can do this. You're a Black. You can do anything._ Breathing what she thought would be the last clean air she would get for the rest of the day, she stepped through the portal...

… and ended up in a total cacophony of lights and sounds. Bellatrix wasn't insipid, as she had had contact with some snippets of Muggle society. She had seen cars before. Just never moving. And never so fast. And never so many. And never so loud. All around here were lights, people, unfamiliar noises, assault her from all sides. In fact, she almost panicked right on the spot. With wide eyes, she stepped onto the road.

"WATCH OUT!" she heard Hermione scream before being yanked back onto the sidewalk by her belt. One of the cars, a black cab, whizzed past her. It had literally missed her by a hair.

"OY!" shouted the Muggle from the car. "Watch where you're going, you barmy bint"

Not about to be insulted by an inferior being, Bellatrix whipped out her wand and snarled as she was about to fire off a nasty hex to the driver in retaliation.

"NO!" Hermione gasped and yanked down Bellatrix' arm.

Bellatrix snapped her head towards Hermione, her anger more than apparent. "So far this isn't helping much to eliminate the prejudice," she hissed through clenched teeth as she stared daggers at the car now speeding away.

"There's rude people in the wizarding world too," Hermione said and Bellatrix reluctantly had to agree with that. Once sufficiently calmed down, Bellatrix followed Hermione, her guide through this strange and alien land. In fact, Bellatrix felt much like Orpheus stumbling through the underworld and, if she remembered the story correctly, it hadn't exactly ended well for Orpheus.

And Muggles. Oh, Merlin, there were so many of them. On the streets, on the sidewalks, in the buildings, in the shops... there was no avoiding them. Bellatrix literally slalomed around them, always keeping at least a three foot distance. She literally felt all eyes burning into her.

"Bellatrix, what are you doing?" Hermione said as she stopped walking.

"They're all looking at me, pet," Bellatrix hissed. "OY! WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, YOU FILTHY ANIMAL?!" she shot at a Muggle who dared to get a little too close to her.

Hermione grumbled slightly. "That's because you are making a spectacle of yourself! Just take a few deep breaths and calm yourself. Just act normal; you don't slalom around people in the wizarding world and you shouldn't do it here."

"This was a mistake!" Bellatrix hissed angrily.

"Just calm down. Don't focus on them, focus on me," said Hermione.

Bellatrix grinned. "Now _that_ I can do."

"Focus on me, not on my bum," Hermione grinned while more Muggles passed them by.

"No promises, pet," Bellatrix smirked.

Thankfully, ignoring the Muggles meant that the Muggles ignored her. Further walks through Muggle London were blissfully uneventful, especially since Hermione was leading her through streets which were a lot more quiet. The Muggle world was loud, crass and crowded. The term concrete jungle came to mind; the buildings were much larger and higher than she was used to seeing in the wizarding world. And so much glass. Once calmed down, Bellatrix concluded that there were plenty of things to see and Hermione was gracious enough about answering the many questions Bellatrix bombarded her with.

"What's that?" Bellatrix pointed out a fat Muggle with a briefcase talking into a small box next to his ear.

"Hm?" Hermione looked. "Oh, that's a mobile phone. I thought those'd be a fad but you see more of them every day."

"What does it do?"

"You can use it to call someone and talk to another person."

"Oh, so it's like an owl?"

"Something like that, yes. Only it's a bit faster."

Bellatrix highly doubted that. "It can't be faster than a high-speed owl, surely," she huffed.

"It's, well, instantaneous."

"Uh-huh," Bellatrix snorted. "Pull the other one, pet."

Since Hermione didn't say anything else on the matter, Bellatrix assumed her first victory over the Muggle world. Surely, nothing could be faster than a high-speed owl when it came to communication!

Hermione led her into something called the tube, some sort of underground transportation device which would carry them to another part of London. The first thing that hit the dark witch were the sheer number of people in those man-made underground caverns; it certainly made her very uncomfortable. Muggles were all around her, and Bellatrix found herself staying near the walls of the station, watching them pass by her with suspicion. Fortunately, the Muggles seemed to be mostly concerned with whatever mundane thoughts were in their tiny brains and paid her no mind as they shuffled along.

She looked on curiously as Hermione put some coins in a section of the wall which produced a ticket. Wasn't there a seller? Or maybe the ticket-seller was _behind_ the wall, would take the money and shove out a ticket. Bellatrix shook her head; the Muggles certainly mistreated their workers. The poor seller didn't even have a window!

"Here's your ticket," Hermione handed her her ticket. Holding her breath, Bellatrix reluctantly queued up among the horrible smelly Muggles. Thankfully, Hermione was behind her so that was at least one less Muggle in her vicinity. The next hurdle was the turnstyle. Bellatrix found herself funneled to a small set of double doors. With her ticket in hand, she waited. And waited.

"Come on, open!" she commanded the doors while she held the ticket in front of her. "I have a ticket. Pet, why doesn't it open?"

Hermione took the ticket and put it in the turnstyle. It processed her ticket, it came out of the top and the little doors opened.

"Oh," said Bellatrix, while several of Muggles looked at her as if she was the biggest idiot they had ever seen. She shot a few dirty looks back; Bellatrix wasn't about be judged by magicless inferior beings.

By the time they had arrived at the escalator, there were even more people packed together. More tunnels, more turns, more stairs as they navigated the labyrinthine London Underground. Finally, the platform was in sight. To Bellatrix, it seemed to be a little excessive to travel in such a manner, but even moreso, she found herself in a confined space with masses of smelly Muggles pressed together on a train which was way too small for her sensibilities. The dark witch pressed her back against the side of the train, holding on to her hidden wand tightly; if any of these Muggles would make just one false move, she'd rain down magic doom on all of them to protect herself and Hermione. Secrecy be damned!

Thankfully, for them, the Muggles all minded their own business. Apparently sensing her distress, Hermione squeezed her hand.

Being released from the tubes and spewed out into the street with the rest of the Muggles, Bellatrix could finally breathe easily again. Odd, really. She wasn't usually this claustrophobic.

"Merlin," Bellatrix hissed. "How could anyone live like this?!"

"Sorry. I traveled with the tube so often I forgot it might be jarring for a first-timer. We'll take the bus back, I think," Hermione tried to comfort her.

"The Knight bus, I hope."

"That would be contrary to having a Muggle experience."

"Bugger the Muggle experience in its magicless inferior Muggle arse!"

The young witch had chosen to start off the day with something light; she was going to take Bellatrix to see her very first Muggle movie. As Hermione explained, she had picked a movie without much explicit Muggle references in it so she could follow the storyline. Bellatrix couldn't help but feel a little insulted; though she understood Hermione's reasoning, it felt as if she was being talked down to as if she were a child.

The movie which Hermione had picked was _A Bug's Life_, a recent release. It was much like a moving photograph, only longer... and with sound. It was some sort of insipid story about anthropomorphic grasshoppers taking over some anthropomorphic anthill, so the anthropomorphic ants tried to gather a group of anthropomorphic insect warriors to take it back. It was all very... anthropomorphic. To be honest, Bellatrix couldn't care less about the movie itself: she was there for Hermione, and if it made the girl happy, Bellatrix would suffer through it. In fact, she was more interested in the techniques behind how the Muggles made this work without magic.

"How did they make this?" Bellatrix whispered.

"They used computers," Hermione whispered back.

Bellatrix leaned in again. "What are computers?" was the next obvious question.

"It'll take too long to explain," said Hermione. "Besides, I'm not really sure how they work exactly."

"I thought you were a genius."

"Not on computers!"

"SSSSSSSSSSSSTTT" sounded behind them.

When the movie was over, the two witches stood in the street in front of the cinema and Hermione looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what?"

"What did you think?"

"It was... different."

"Did you like it?"

"Like I said, it was different."

"You didn't like it."

"Didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I... suppose."

"Maybe you need to see more movies before you draw a definite conclusion."

"Perhaps. Not today, though. I've had all the anthropomorphic talking insects I can handle."

"Remind me to show you a television programme my dad always liked. It's called 'Columbo' and it's about a Muggle police detective solving murders. I suspect you might quite like it," Hermione said. "Lots of Muggle references, though."

"Alright," Bellatrix nodded, and had to admit she was quite professionally intrigued to know how Muggles would solve murders without any form of magical aid.

That answer seemed to satisfy Hermione. The next item on their list was the science museum which was, thankfully, close enough to the cinema to avoid another trip through the tube. The two chatted for a bit while walking to the museum and Bellatrix noted that, once again, Hermione had an unearthly shade of pale on her complexion. It worried her somewhat, even though it didn't seem to bother Hermione all that much. Maybe it was a Muggle-born thing?

The museum itself was much like the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, only bigger. In fact, it was a hell of a lot bigger. There were hundreds of hundreds of contraptions from machines to cars to toys. One was stranger than the next and, to be honest, she wouldn't have want to spend much time there if it hadn't been for Hermione's boundless enthusiasm. It was infectious to a point that Bellatrix had no real interest in many of the Muggle contraptions, but quite enjoyed listening to Hermione talk about them.

Hermione did her best to dutifully answer each and every question and this was also when Bellatrix, to her delight, found out that Hermione didn't know everything. Often she'd have to consult the sign next to a device to help explain its purpose. It seemed there were things in the Muggle world to complicated even for Hermione to grasp.

As time progressed, it became less about learning and more about trying to ruffle Hermione's feathers. In particularly, she learned that Hermione had an intense dislike for machines called 'computers', so it became a sport for her to ask as many questions as possible related to these computers.

After pestering Hermione about some Muggle named Alan Turing, Bellatrix spotted a giant metal tube with wings and a glass canopy which was suspended from the ceiling. "What's that?" she asked.

"That is a harrier jet," Hermione replied. "It's one of the Muggle airplanes that mister Weasley is so fond of."

"How does it work?"

"It's physics, really. Aerodynamics."

"You've lost me."

"Well, you see, because of the shape of the wings, the speed of the aircraft causes the air underneath the wings to push the airplane off the ground. This is called lift. The airplane will stay in the air as long as it keeps a decent speed, because the force of the lift is greater than the weight of the plane."

"Hm, I see," Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "Clever. It's like how the enchanted paper planes at the office work, but on a larger scale. I take it, it uses one of those engines you showed me earlier to keep it at proper speed, correct?"

When Bellatrix looked at Hermione, she saw an utterly stunned expression on the young woman's face. "What?" Bellatrix asked.

"You... you get it?" Hermione blinked. "You understand how aerodynamics work."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow as the perceived insult. "Why wouldn't I? It's a simple enough concept."

"Because I've tried to explain this to mister Weasley a dozen times over and he just doesn't understand."

"That's because I'm Bellatrix Black and not a complete Weasley pillock, pet," Bellatrix said. "A more important question would if it's got a computer on board."

"Yes," Hermione hissed through clenched teeth. "It has a flight computer on board."

Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "So a flight computer is different from a regular computer then?"

"YES! Uh, I mean, no. Uh, ack, it doesn't matter!" Hermione retorted. "It has a computer on board, just take my word for it and leave me alone!"

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I thought you were here to educate me. So why aren't you answering my questions?" she asked, faking to sound as hurt and offended as possible.

"Argh!"

Leaving Hermione to simmer for a while, she pointed at a large metal arm with a grasping device at the end. "What does that contraption do?"

"That is a factory construction robot," Hermione said. "You can give it a set of instructions and it will follow it very precisely. They're accurate to the millimeter."

"Can you tell it to punch someone in the face?"

Hermione blinked. "I... suppose. But I can't imagine why you would want it to do that."

"Can you make it shoot fire out of its arse?"

"Oh, now you're just toying with me!"

"Correct," Bellatrix nodded. "So... you tell it what to do by using a computer?"

"ARGH!"

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

When they finally left the museum, it was nearly evening. Bellatrix and Hermione were both feeling a bit peckish and the young witch led them to a nearby Subways for some custom made sandwiches. Bellatrix let Hermione pick the food and drinks and they brought them out to Hyde park where they sat down on one of the benches, near a lamppost. Bellatrix was thankful for this decision, as the park was relatively deserted. A welcome change after all the bustle of Muggle London.

"I grew up in places like that," said Hermione after giving Bellatrix her drink and sandwich. "My parents worked long hours and often came home late. Most weekdays, I had to fend for myself when it came to food. Family dinners were a bit of a luxury."

"They just let you… walk around the city alone and unprotected? How old were you?" Bellatrix blinked.

Hermione shrugged. "Seven or eight. It stopped when I started attending Hogwarts."

A mental image of a seven year old Hermione, cheerfully walking along the streets of London wearing her little teddy-bear shaped backpack, surrounded by tens of thousands of Muggle murderers, thieves, muggers and rapists, not to mention hundreds upon thousands of dangerous cars, shot through her head. It was incomprehensible. What kind of parents did Hermione have?!

"But isn't that incredibly dangerous? There's Muggles everywhere in this city!"

"Nah," shrugged Hermione. "It's perfectly safe as long as you don't do anything stupid, like getting into someone's car or taking shortcuts through a dark alley."

"That would have been unthinkable when I was that age," said Bellatrix. "My father was rather paranoid. There were bodyguards wherever the three of us went. Oh, they kept their distance, but we were constantly watched. I couldn't really move about freely until I went to Hogwarts. It was rather annoying to go back home for summer and then being stalked by hired goons again, though. Heh, I made a bit of a sport out of it to give them the slip, really. The worst times is when I had a girl round; it's hard to get into a romantic mood when there's three burly wizards watching your every move."

"I can imagine," Hermione shook her head. "I don't think I could live like that."

"Hah, I couldn't either!" Bellatrix laughed. "Much to my father's dismay, I figured out a lot of creative escape routes."

"I can imagine," smiled Hermione.

"I'll give the Muggles this," said Bellatrix in between bites. "They do know how to make a sandwich."

It was then that Hermione broke out in a coughing fit. A very bad one, in fact. For a moment, a worried Bellatrix thought that the young witch was choking on her food. However, she hadn't had a single bite yet. Hermione doubled over as she coughed, with a pained expression on her face.

"Are you alright, pet?" Bellatrix asked while placing a hand on her shoulder. "That's a nasty cough you got there."

"I'll be fine," Hermione clutched herself for a moment. "Just give me a moment."

"Are you sure?" Bellatrix with some concern. Hermione just smiled and nodded briefly. The two ate their sandwiches in silence.

"So," Hermione finally asked. "Thoughts?"

"You in a see-through camisole. In my bed. Waiting for me."

Hermione playfully slapped her against the shoulder. "About Muggles, of course."

"Hm, don't get me wrong," Bellatrix started. "They're still inferior creatures, but they're not the mud-wallowing idiots I took them for. I think they discovered some pretty clever ways to cope with living without magic. But they'll always be inferior, don't forget that."

"It's a start," Hermione smiled. "So, what did you like most?"

Bellatrix held up her drink.

"Cola?" Hermione looked incredulously at her. "After all the wonders I've shown you, the thing that impressed you the most is an acidic sugar-drink?!"

Bellatrix shrugged, sucking on the straw for good measure. "'s good. And sugary."

"Unbelievable," Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't contain her mirth.

The two witches sat next to each other for a moment, simply enjoying the evening. The sky was lit in a beautiful orange glow as the sun was setting over the city. The sound of cars driving by faded in the distance as the balmy night progressed. The conversation drifted towards heavier topics, however.

"I never asked why you were exiled from your family," Hermione asked. "If that's something you don't want to talk about, it's alright."

Bellatrix smiled at her; the young woman had been asking all sorts of questions about her. That was only natural, she supposed. "It's fine. It's all ancient history anyway. I was exiled because I refused to marry the man I had been promised to."

Hermione looked at her with sympathy in her eyes. "You were exiled for refusing to marry? That's awful. Were… were your parents abusive?"

Bellatrix shook her head and let out a brief laugh. "Good heavens, no! Why does everybody immediately assume that? They weren't abusive at all. In fact, my father cried when he exiled me. They tried for months to try to get me to change my mind, but I was stubborn as all hell. Exile, well... I suspect they thought cutting me off from the family fortune would make me run back to them with my tail between my legs. I'd have been able to go back to my family, if I'd only change my mind about marrying Rodolphus Lestrange."

"But you never did," Hermione said, an admiring look on her features.

"Obviously not," Bellatrix winked. "Instead they found out just how stubborn I can be. Oh, they tried to keep in contact through letters; they didn't consider me a blood traitor after all. I never answered any of those letters. In the end, my parents chose keeping up appearances and insipid family traditions over me. I never forgave them for that. And what they did to my sister Andromeda was far, far worse. I never forgave them for that either."

The young witch looked at her with pity in her beautiful eyes. Were she anyone else, Bellatrix might have snapped at her. As it was, Bellatrix allowed her to lean into her. She felt Hermione's warmth and simply enjoyed her being so near to her. "You never spoke to them again?" the young witch asked.

"No," Bellatrix shook her head. "The last time I saw father was at my mother's funeral. He wouldn't even so much as look at me."

"Maybe he was ashamed," replied Hermione.

Bellatrix let her hand slide over Hermione's side while she enjoyed the smell of the girl's hair. "Ashamed of me? Hah, likely."

"No," Hermione said. "You're so quick to think the worst of people. I meant, maybe he was ashamed of what he did to you."

Bellatrix looked at Hermione for a moment. "If I'm too quick to think the worst of people, pet, you are too quick to think the best of them. What about you, hm?" Bellatrix asked. "Any brothers? Sisters?"

"I'm an only child," said Hermione. "It was just me, mum and dad."

"Bet you were spoiled rotten," grinned Bellatrix.

"Something like that," Hermione chuckled. "We Grangers are a pretty big and close-knit family. I have so many aunts, uncles, cousins. I don't get along with all of them... Honestly, I don't get along with most of them. But I can't imagine never being allowed to talk to any of them ever again. I've had plenty of dealings with pure-bloods in Hogwarts, but knowing that pure-blood families can be so severe rather explains why so many pure-bloods in Slytherin are so mean-spirited."

Bellatrix looked away. "If it hadn't been for my sisters, I might not have made it through being exiled," she almost whispered. It made her wish that she had never said it; Bellatrix hated being vulnerable and she had shared so many hidden things with this girl she had only known for a few days. It was madness in a way. At least it felt right. Some of those stories had been begging to be told for decades.

"You must have had friends to help you," Hermione spoke.

Bellatrix closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She was sharing secrets and she had already shown her vulnerability. Might as well go all the way, then. Might as well tell her about Katie.

"Pet," Bellatrix started. "I've haven't been entirely honest with you. About why I joined magical law enforcement, I mean."

"Oh?"

"That picture you saw. The one I took away from you?" Bellatrix asked. "There was another girl in the frame. A girl named Katie. I was in my seventh year, about your age. I met her a month or two after I had been exiled. I think my parents finally realized that I wasn't coming back. I was free, but I had no idea what I was going to do with myself. I snuck out of Hogwarts almost on a daily basis; I knew all the tricks, all the secret passages... I mostly went to Hogsmeade to get away from everything. The might also have been some underage drinking involved. I met Katie during one of those outings. She was an Australian witch, a half-blood."

"I'm surprised you let a half-blood into your circle back then."

"Why not?" Bellatrix shrugged. "I had no idea what to do with my life anyway, so it didn't matter to me. Not anymore. Katie was a backpacker. She was two years older than me and wanted to see the world. She took a temporary job at Hogsmeade and was planning to explore the wizarding world of the UK. A lot more adventurous than I was, that's for sure. It was Katie who encouraged me to join the Department."

"There's plenty of backpackers in the Muggle world too," Hermione said. "I suppose it's something a lot of Australians do. Australian wizards too, I suppose. Was she a girlfriend?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "No. No, she wasn't. She was a friend. A real friend. My only real friend. I've had some friendly relations with some Slytherins when I was in school, but most of the people who approached me were sycophants looking to attach themselves to the Black family name. Katie wasn't like that. Hell, she didn't even know who the Blacks were until I told her. She wasn't the brightest or the most powerful witch the world, but she had a kind soul... and she didn't know when to quit. I told her so many times to bugger off and leave me alone, complete with appropriate hexes, but that only made her come back more determined. It took a while, but we became friends," Bellatrix said. "She... she was going to show me Australia. She'd arranged it and everything; we were going to stay at her uncle in Melbourne. Seems so silly now."

"What happened to her?"

Bellatrix closed her eyes. It still hurt after all this time. "They found her at the bottom of the stairs of the Three Broomsticks with a broken neck."

"Oh god," Hermione put her head on Bellatrix's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Not your fault," Bellatrix said. "Thing is, I found out that day that a Lestrange doesn't appreciate being spurned. I passed Rodolphus in Slytherin hall, I was very upset... and he just flashes me the most malicious grin he could muster. It was then that I knew, I just knew he was behind it."

Bellatrix looked down at the dirt of the path, closed her eyes and gritted her teeth for a moment. "The Department sent over some self-important idiot who proclaimed it to be... a tragic accident. I couldn't believe it. I begged him to look into Rodolphus, told him what I knew, but he didn't act on it. They just said I was too grief-stricken to think straight. I tried so hard, but... I just couldn't prove it. So yeah, Rodolphus killed Katie. And he got away with it."

Bellatrix leant into Hermione, pressing the young witch against her. "I've never told anyone. I don't even really know why I'm telling you this now."

"Thank you for trusting me," Hermione said.

"I'll do more than that, pet," Bellatrix gently pressed her lips against Hermione's, kissing her hungrily. The two embraced, revelling in the moment. And the moment was wonderful; it had been so long ago since she had felt like this. Content. Happy, even. Yes, she dared to admit it. She was happy. She'd almost forgotten what that felt like. Hell, she hadn't even thought of work once today, which was unique in itself.

While they were kissing, a couple of youths rode by on things she had learned today were bicycles. The young men hollered and cheered at them as they cycled around them and went on their merry path. After they finally broke the kiss, Bellatrix whispered in her ear. "I think I need to have you back at my apartment very quickly."

As it was said, so it was done. And, as promised, they took the bus back to the entrance to the wizarding world. Just before Bellatrix's raunchy behaviour on the bus could ruffle the feathers of a few prim and proper old Muggle ladies, they found themselves at their destination and spilled through the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, sharing plenty of eager kisses on the way home.

Once in the apartment, Hermione plopped down on the couch while Bellatrix headed off into the kitchen to fetch some glasses for wine. After all, lovemaking was best when some anticipation was involved; some wine, some chatting, some kissing... The dark witch was gearing up to gift her Hermione an even better experience than the night before.

However, when Bellatrix came out of the kitchen with the glasses and a bottle in hand, she was shocked to find Hermione hugging herself as she bent forward. She was shivering like a reed in the wind. "Pet, what's wrong?" a worried Bellatrix said while putting down the glasses and the wine on the dressoir and rushed towards her.

Hermione looked up with deep red blood-shot eyes, her hands trembling ever so slightly. "I... I'm sorry, but I think I can't stay. I need to get back to Hogwarts. I need to go..."

"Bollocks, if you're not feeling well, perhaps we should find a heal..." Bellatrix started to say, but then, it finally all clicked into place. It struck her like a bolt of lightning from the sky. Everything. The murder, Pettigrew, the ledger, Hermione's behaviour, everything. It all made sense now, and Bellatrix's mood darkened considerably as a result.

How? How could she have been so blind? It was right in front of her. And so obvious too. The pale skin, the coughing, the shivers, the shaking hands, the blood-shot eyes.

"You're an addict," Bellatrix hissed harshly, taking the young witch by surprise. "Those are withdrawal symptoms!"

"What? No, I..."

"DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A SIMPLETON?! DO YOU?!" Bellatrix shrieked at the top of her lungs as her anger ever mounted. "I saw your name in Pettigrew's ledgers. You were a regular customer. He was your supplier, wasn't he?! WASN'T HE?!"

When Hermione didn't answer quick enough, Bellatrix knelt down in front of her and roughly grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her to look into her eyes. "It was you who broke the seal on Pettigrew's quarters, wasn't it? You're a desperate junkie looking for her fix! ANSWER ME!"

Her secret revealed, Hermione's reaction was to burst into tears. "Y-yes. Yes, that was me."

Bellatrix let out a snarl and roughly shoved the young witch back onto the couch. All the good and happy feelings she had experienced the past two days came crushing down like a house of cards. "Was this your plan all along?" Bellatrix spoke softly, but maliciously while pacing through her living room. "To get close to me? Warm my heart to you? Make me fall for you, even? Was it all just to try to manipulate me to throw off my investigation? To sway me? It was all a lie, wasn't it? WASN'T IT?!"

"N-no," Hermione stammered through her tears.

"LIAR!" Bellatrix shouted back. "You've been trying to derail my investigation from the very start! The first words out of your mouth when I met you were lies!"

And it stung. By all magic in the world, the betrayal stung more than Bellatrix wanted to admit to herself. How could she have been so blind? She felt involuntary tears sting in her eyes, yearning for escape. The dark witch didn't want... couldn't let... the mudblood to see her like this, so she turned away to face the wall. She'd been such a fool, such a sap. A sucker for a pretty face.

Why hadn't she seen it? But in her heart, she already knew the answer.

She hadn't seen it because she hadn't _wanted_ to see it. For the same reason why she had gallivanted about with a suspect in spite of her better judgment. Andromeda had been right all along: Bellatrix _was_ lonely. It had been so long since she had genuinely enjoyed someone's company like she had Hermione's.

"Congratulations," Bellatrix spoke with a bitter edge on a trembling voice. "I always pride myself for seeing all the details, all the angles… But you completely pulled the wool over my eyes. Well done. Well played," she hissed.

The dark witch let out a gutteral shriek as she lurched forward, grabbed the bottle of wine. With tremendous force, it flew through the living room to smash to pieces against the wall, spreading shards of glass and rivulets of wine all over the wall. Hermione was still shivering on the couch, apparently too afraid to speak a single word.

"You played me," she spoke, her voice broken. "You played me like a cheap violin! I... opened up to you I trusted..."

The proud dark witch wasn't able to stop her body from shivering. Pain. Anger. Sadness. Rage. They all mixed together in a rather unpleasant concoction of bile. "MUDBLOOD FILTH!" she cried out.

It was an insult intended to hurt Hermione to the core. And it worked. The tension in the room was palpable as the silence fell. There were no sounds in the room other than Hermione's choked sobs and and Bellatrix's ragged breaths. The mudblood had been cut to the bone by the insult.

Good.

_GOOD!_

In the end, Bellatrix blamed herself. All her life she'd been used and tossed aside so why would this be any different? This filthy little mudblood had played her and had done so expertly. Ãnd to think that Bellatrix had even hoped that maybe Hermione could be someone… someone she could feel close to. What a fool she had been! What a complete and utter idiot she had been!

Remarkable calm came with this realization. Oh, she was still very much angered, but there was an odd comfort which came with it. The dark witch turned around and brushed past the sobbing little mublood sitting on her couch. She strolled over to the window and leant her arms on the windowsill. "Get out of my house, mudblood," she spoke with a decisive coldness. "I can't stand the sight of you."

"N-no," the mudblood replied. "Bellatrix, please! I..."

"Leave!" said Bellatrix without turning to look at the disgusting mudblood. "And never return. Any further conversations between us will take place at the precinct in the interrogation room. Don't try to leave town or I swear I will personally track you down and drag you back by your ear."

And now Hermione would leave. They always left her, after all.

Good riddance.

Good riddance, to bad mudblood rubbish.

So why did Bellatrix felt like she was about to cry?

"Are you still here?!" Bellatrix hissed, not even bothering to turn around. "GO! LEAVE!"

She heard the rustling of the leather of her sofa as the mudblood slid over it. Footsteps on the wood of her floor. Bellatrix couldn't take it anymore; tears she had been fighting to keep from spilling started to flow. The moment she'd hear the door open and shut, she'd be alone again.

Instead, she felt two arms wrap around her waist. "Bellatrix," she heard the mudblood whisper to her. "Please, don't send me away. Not after what happened between us... Please believe me. I... I need help."

Bellatrix's first instinct was to violently shove Hermione away from her, grab her by the hair and drag her out the door. But there was something about the sound of her voice that made her reconsider. In her line of work, she had heard it all. Lies, pleading, threats, begging; silver-tongued criminals who were guilty as sin and tried to feed her bullshit in desperate attempts to keep themselves out of prison. She had seen through all of them. If there's one thing she had learned, it was how to recognize a liar. But what she had heard wasn't the voice of a liar, or someone who was trying to weasel her way out prison. Those weren't crocodile tears.

No, this was honest, sincere and kind Hermione. With a liberal dash of terrified.

Perhaps she hadn't been right about accusing Hermione of playing. Perhaps... perhaps the line of work she was in, and her life to this date, had made her cynical and dour. Hm, not perhaps. It had. It most definitely had. Hermione was right: she'd come to expect the worst from people in any given situation.

Bellatrix closed her eyes, forced herself to calm down and turned around. She saw Hermione looking up at her, red eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Before she could even think, the dark witch had taken the young woman in a firm embrace. Though still crying, Hermione calmed somewhat.

"What happened between us," Hermione said. "I... didn't expect it to happen, but I'm happy that it did."

"I... shouldn't have... called you... It's not the sort thing one says to someone one... cares about," said Bellatrix, as gently as she could while she tried to will the remaining anger away. "I wanted to hurt you."

"You succeeded," Hermione replied softly, further increasing Bellatrix's regret. The pain was etched on her tear-streaked face; the girl was utterly heart-broken over Bellatrix's ugly words. It was then and there that the dark witch finally realized what tremendous impact the term she had been so callously throwing about could have on a person.

"It is true, though, isn't it? You _are_ an addict."

"I wanted to tell you, I really did, but..." Hermione closed her eyes. Bellatrix started to understand. '_Hi, I'm Hermione Granger and I'm addicted to illegal substances. Wanna hang?', _wasn't really something that could be woven into a civil conversation.

"So tell me now," Bellatrix said.

Hermione sat down on the sofa, still shaking. "It started about two years ago," said Hermione. "There were so many classes to choose from, so many options. I didn't want to choose, I wanted to do them all. I wanted to excel at everything. I wanted to show those Purity Front rotters that a 'mudblood' could outdo them all! But no matter how hard I worked and studied... there just weren't enough hours in the day," Hermione looked Bellatrix in the eye. "I experimented with a time-turner in my third year so I could do more classes in a single day, but that didn't eliminate the fundamental problem. I wasted too much time on sleep. Time I could use for studying."

Bellatrix had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Don't tell me you..."

"I started taking insoma-potions," Hermione was afraid to look Bellatrix in the eye.

It was what the dark witch had feared. insoma-potions were strictly regulated magical narcotics, some of the most highly addictive potions in the world. They completely eliminated any need for sleep and would energize a wizard totally. But there was a high price to pay for this. It's only legal use was in case of medical emergencies where it was essential that a patient would have to stay awake at all cost.

"It was the perfect solution to my problem; to be able to follow all the classes, do all the studying and still be able to enjoy the company of my friends. The potion worked wonderfully. I felt completely energized. The first month I didn't sleep at all. I had so much extra time to study. It wasn't like when I used the time-turner, because I had a full twenty-four hours to do everything," said Hermione. "And I excelled at all my classes. All my teachers were amazed. I just had to hide the fact that I didn't sleep anymore, but that was easy enough."

"Insoma is an insidious addiction," said Bellatrix. "You need more and more of the stuff to achieve the same effect as time progresses."

Hermione sighed. "I thought I could handle it."

"You wouldn't be the first to think that," Bellatrix replied.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "I had it all figured out. I made a chart, you see?"

"A... a chart?" Bellatrix blinked for a moment. "Are you kidding me?"

"Of course I knew how dangerously addictive insoma-potions are, but I did my research and made hundreds of calculations. In the end, I figured out the best dosage I could take daily to minimize the addictive qualities while maximizing efficient use. Once my NEWTS approaching their end, I were to simply cut down by taking a bit less of the potion every day over the course of four months until I would no longer need it," Hermione said. "I had it planned out to the finite details. I'd literally take the last drop of the potion the day I would graduate. It was supposed to be a... a '_controlled_ addiction'."

Bellatrix nodded. She had noted that the young witch could be quite... direct... when it came to her academic achievements; Draco had called her an insufferable know-it-all, and that had been an accurate assessment on his part. Insoma had claimed so many wizards and witches before her, and Hermione had been arrogant enough to think she could do better than all of them by just keeping to a proper dosage.

"Didn't quite work out like that, did it pet?"

Bellatrix hadn't meant to sound as condescending or as coarse as she did; Hermione was feeling awful enough as it was, but the dark witch had seen the effects of insoma poisoning first-hand when she had still been a constable on patrol on Knockturn Alley. Kicking the addiction wasn't nearly as easy as Hermione was making it out to be.

Hermione certainly caught the hint. "I underestimated how much... how much I would _crave_ it. I didn't notice much at all when I was regularly using the potion..."

"But you did when you tried to cut down," Bellatrix finished. "When your NEWTS were ending?"

"I... It had gotten so far that I couldn't feel like myself anymore without taking the potion. I just _needed_ more and more. I knew I was in terrible trouble. At first I tried to counteract the potion's effects by drinking sleeping draughts, but that just made me horribly ill. I tried to cut down, but... I wasn't strong enough. I just couldn't stop... Eventually I just decided to make the best of it and make use of a bad situation to do even more schoolwork. I stuck my head in the sand."

"How much are you taking now?"

Hermione remained silent and refused to meet Bellatrix's eyes.

"Pet," Bellatrix pressed. "How much?"

"Almost half a bottle a day. I haven't slept at all for two years."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and groaned. "Bloody hell... Tell me something, did you confess your addiction to Potter and Weasley?"

"Only recently. I... told them I was trying to quit," Hermione spoke, obviously ashamed of having lied to her friends.

Bellatrix rubbed her temples for a moment. "Because Pettigrew was blackmailing you."

Hermione looked at her in surprise. "How did you..."

"His ledger," said Bellatrix. "Pettigrew recently raised his prices across the board to pay off a gambling debt. The students were his primary source of income. He threatened to expose your addiction unless you'd pay triple for the insoma, didn't he?"

Hermione nodded ever so slightly.

"It makes sense," Bellatrix nodded. "You are the top student of Hogwarts with a vested interest to keep your addiction a secret and you are connected to the Potters, a rich wizarding family. How did you pay for the potions? Two years of insoma addiction is rather costly."

The young witch kept her eyes downcast. "My parents send me money from home ever so often, meant for books and sweets. I borrowed a lot from Harry. Mister Pettigrew also sold me potions in trade."

Bellatrix frowned. "In... trade?"

It took Hermione a few moments to realize just what Bellatrix was implying, before she gasped and shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no. No. NO! Nothing like that. I used to brew potions for him; some polyjuice, some contraceptives. Things he could sell to other students. I also had a still set up in one of the secret passages so I could ferment alcohol for him. He absolutely loved my homebrew."

"But now that he's dead and your supply has run out..."

"Ever since mister Pettigrew died, I... I was forced to ration. I've tried making more myself many times before, but it's next to impossible to get all the ingredients easily. And it's not as if I could ask professor Snape for help. There's just no way to get more. And now I only have half a potion left. I... I don't know what I'm going to do, Bellatrix. Oh god, what I have done to myself?"

The dark witch gently took Hermione's hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "There's always a choice, pet," she whispered, remembering Dumbledore's words and how much comfort it had given her at the time. "But you have to be willing to live with the consequences."

A small sob escaped from Hermione's lips. Her voice was strained as she looked Bellatrix in the eye. "I want... I need... to make a confession."

"That's why you came to speak to me yesterday. Didn't you?" Bellatrix closed her eyes.

Hermione could only nod.

_'Typical; I've finally found someone special after all these years and now I'm going to have to arrest her for murder', _Bellatrix thought bitterly. '_Fuck my life'. _

"Don't say anything else, pet. Come with me," said Bellatrix as she stood up and pulled Hermione off the couch.

"What are you doing to do?"

"My job," Bellatrix allowed a brief encouraging smile to cross her features. Her keen mind had been working with the speed of light, looking at the evidence, the case, from all possible angles. All she had heard. All she had seen. Every piece of the puzzle had fallen neatly into place to form a perfect picture.

"I just worked out how Peter Pettigrew ended up dead."


	8. Whodunnit?

Hello all,

A new chapter of Murder Most Horrid is ready. However, first I wanted to address Twisties's review of 17/3. Your review was great feedback, but it's a shame that your review was unsigned; I can't respond in much detail as there's still two chapters to go (including this one) in this story arc before the next one begins so I need to a bit more vague for the readers who don't want to be spoiled.

First of all, Hermione is not a minor. Canonically, she's a year older than the boys and timewise, she's in her seventh year which is nearing its end. That would make her 18, close to turning 19 as her birthday is in september. Doesn't make Bella anything less of a cradle-robber, but at least Hermione is a responsible (?) adult. :) I went back to an earlier chapter and spelled that out a little more clearly.

Second, Bella considers herself a professional, but she's a far cry from a model police officer; she's rude, arrogant and has given her boss plenty of gray hairs already. She was fully aware that what she doing with Hermione was wrong, but she did it anyway. However, both points you make are going to be addressed in this chapter and the next. So thank you for your feedback and hopefully, I'll be able to win back some believability. :)

Anyway, onwards with the story!

* * *

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 8: Whodunnit?_

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger sat in Dumbledore's office while Bellatrix paced in front of them all. The only other person present in the room was Albus Dumbledore himself. He had insisted on being present to give his students emotional support through the coming ordeal. Bellatrix had allowed him, and only him, to be present. In fact, it had given her a tremendous pleasure to show a very huffy McGonagall the door.

It still Sunday evening, and only half an hour again, she and Hermione were about to make love, were it not for a rather shocking admission on Hermione's part. The dark witch had allowed Hermione to return to Hogwarts on her own, while she had gone straight to Dumbledore to set up a meeting with all three of the students involved in the grisly death of Peter Pettigrew.

She and Hermione had not spoken yet. In fact, she seemed terrified, though less terrified than the two boys. Honestly, she could understand that; they were all teenagers in their final year. Their worst concern should be final exams and trying to get laid, not wondering if they were in for a date with Azkaban.

"Now," Bellatrix started as she paced, the clicking of the heels of her boots and the shallow breaths of the three students the only sounds in the room. "Head master Dumbledore has summoned you here this evening on my behest because I have reconstructed the events leading to and the aftermath of mister Pettigrew's death. I'll tell you what happened here three nights ago."

Hermione kept her eyes downcast and, in truth, she looked terrible. Withdrawal was taking its toll, but Bellatrix was pleased that the young witch hadn't taken the last of the remaining potion. When leaving her alone to make the arrangements to see the three students with Dumbledore, Hermione would have had every opportunity to quaff the last of the potion. It encouraged her that Hermione had chosen not to.

"Earlier this night, miss Granger confessed to me that she is addicted to insoma-potions," said Bellatrix. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl; at that very moment, it was obvious that Hermione was ashamed to her very core. Of course, her friends had already known, but now her secret was out in front of Dumbledore. The old man betrayed no emotion on his face, however. Perhaps the old man had known as well. Honestly, it mattered not.

Bellatrix continued. "The pressure to excel academically drove her to this drastic decision. Mister Pettigrew was her supplier, as he has been proven to have been a black marketeer who sold items of a dubious nature to the students. I have come to this conclusion because Miss Granger's name appeared prominently in his ledger for the last two years and she has been seen in his presence by students on multiple occasions. Now, that same ledger also confirms that mister Pettigrew had a substantial gambling debt. He needed more money quickly. As a result, he jacked up his prices across the board as the ledger confirms, and started to blackmail miss Granger. A set sum of galleons on top of the regular price with every purchase of more potion or he would reveal her secret. Pettigrew knew of her ties to mister Potter and I assume within reasonable doubt that he hoped that some of the Potter wealth would flow into his coffers."

The students said nothing, but really, they didn't need to. Dumbledore, in the meantime, followed Bellatrix's reasoning with genuine interest.

"That is why you went to him the day before, mister Potter. You and mister Weasley knew about miss Granger's addiction. You went to mister Pettigrew to appeal to his sense of decency, his once friendship to your father, to try to get him to stop blackmailing miss Granger. But you failed."

Potter suddenly snapped up to look Bellatrix in the eye. "You can't do this! Hermione just made a mistake! She doesn't deserve any of this!" By his very outburst, Potter confirmed to Bellatrix that her conclusion had been correct.

"QUIET!" Bellatrix snarled, cowing the boy into submission. "A man lies dead, mister Potter! That is a problem that will not simply go away!"

The Potter boy hung his head slow, sufficiently cowed enough for Bellatrix to continue.

"Later that day, in the deepest of night, miss Granger went to mister Pettigrew for her usual fix," Bellatrix continued pacing. "The exchange ended with mister Pettigrew lying dead on the floor. Miss Granger panicked and went to find her closest friends."

* * *

"_Mione, what happened?! What did you do?!" Ron gasped nervously as the three of them stood over the downed body of Peter Pettigrew. Harry was looking over the body, silent as the grave. The grave... a poor choice of words. Hermione, she could admit to herself, was near hysterics. How? How could this have happened?! _

"_He's dead," Ron blanched and kept a healthy distance from the corpse. "Oh, Merlin, he's really dead."_

_Fear and loathing shot through Hermione's very soul as she hugged herself and couldn't keep herself from shiver. "I... I... have to tell Dumbledore..."_

"_No!" Harry suddenly rose up and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. "Hermione, I won't let you ruin your life! Not for this rotter!"_

"_Harry..." tears streaked over Hermione's eyes as she shook her head. "I have to..."_

"_No, you don't!" Harry shouted before he willed himself to calm down. "I won't let you do this! Not because of him! You are a thousand times the person Pettigrew was! A million times!"_

"_Blimey, what on Earth are we going to do, Harry?" Ron pressed._

_Harry Potter rubbed his chin while Hermione's wiped away her tears. "Right, here's what we do. Ron, let's get a rag. We need to clean up the blood first."_

* * *

The three teenagers looked downright dejected while Bellatrix kept deconstructing that fateful evening. "Together, the three of you decided to get rid of the body. You were going to make it look like an accident. After all, it was well known that mister Pettigrew loved his drinks. Your plan was to drag him to the stone bridge near the entrance and drop the body into the depths below, to make it look as if he had been taking a drunken stroll through the courtyard and toppled off. The three of you carried the body through the library, because that was the shortest route from his quarters to the courtyard."

* * *

"_Cor lummey," Ron grunted while he held the legs and Harry dragged Pettrigrew's limp body by the shoulders. "Couldn't he have gone on a diet before dying?"_

"_Quiet, Ron!" Harry hissed._

_With Hermione being a reluctant look-out, they had taken the body from his quarters into the hallways, dodging two prefects on patrol. Through the library would be the shortest route to the courtyard. And after that, they would have to take a side entrance leading into the courtyard and the bridge beyond. The gate could be somewhat of a challenge, but a powerful levitation spell might be able to help there._

_Hermione still couldn't believe they were doing this. In her mind, the best thing to do was still to fess up and face the music, but by now she had gotten her friends involved and she didn't want to risk their lives either. Part of her realized that she was only digging herself into an even deeper pit. _

_At least she had stopped crying now. But it was still all her fault. If she hadn't... that damnable potion! Why did she ever start taking insoma?!_

_Through the double doors was the library. The place in Hogwarts she loved the most. In utter darkness, and considering what they were doing, the library felt like a dangerous and foreboding place. With a new moon in the sky, the night beyond the library's tall windows was dark and threatening. At least the darkness would give them plenty of places to hide if spotted._

_With Hermione on the look-out, the boys started dragging the corpse towards the side-entrance leading into the corridor to the courtyard. From there it would only be a short walk to the stone bridge. They had just dragged Pettigrew between two bookstacks, part of the Muggle Studies section, when Hermione thought she heard something._

"_Harry, Ron!" Hermione whispered. "Quiet. I hear someone."_

_On the opposite end of the library a door opened and off-key singing could be heard in the distance. "Milk for Professor, Milk for Professor. Wonky is good elf, brings milk for Professor."_

_Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively held their breath and waited for the elf to stroll through the library and be out the opposite. However, they were still holding onto the body which was seemingly getting heavier by the second. The elf was really close now, so putting down the body wouldn't be an option as elves had excellent hearing._

_It all seemed to go well, until one of Pettigrew's legs slipped from Ron's sweaty hand. All time seemed to freeze when the heel of his shoe hit the floor with a heavy thud. All three of the teens gasped as the elf stopped singing._

"_Hello?" sounded the elf when she stopped in her tracks. "Who's there?"_

_When they saw that the elf was heading towards them, they realized all was lost. They dropped the body and ran as quickly as they could. Just as they left the library, they heard Wonky's terrified shriek._

* * *

Bellatrix was still pacing while giving her exposition. "However, you were interrupted by a house-elf named Wonky when she passed through the library. For fear of being caught, you dropped the body and ran. And because you fled back to your dorms immediately, you didn't have time to cook up a proper story between the three of you. That is why your statements were rife with inconsistencies."

* * *

_That morning, before class, Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing together in an alcove, quietly discussing their course of action. Already, the news of Pettigrew's death was going around the Hogwarts grapevine like wildfire. There was someone from the Department investigating already._

"_Okay, remember," said Harry. "We need to stick by our stories. The three of us were asleep all night and we didn't see or hear anything. If we're asked why we were seen talking with mister Pettigrew, it's because he has interesting stories to tell. Got it?"_

"_What kind of stories again, Harry?"_

"_Ron, we've been over this already!"_

"_Sorry, nervous. I forget stuff."_

_Hermione shook her head. "Guys, this is grown way above our heads. The detective is questioning everybody. There's even a schedule drawn up. We have to come forward..."_

_The schedule, picked up from one of the prefects, was in her hands. "Look," said Hermione. "Our names are on this list. The detective will be talking to us near midday."_

"_Let me see that," Harry said as he took the schedule and gave it a cursory glance. Almost immediately, his eyes grew wide and he blanched visibly. "Oh, shit," he whispered. "Oh, shit... Hermione, whatever you do, you can't come forward. Not to this woman!" _

_Hermione frowned. "What? Why not?"_

"_The detective they sent. It's Bellatrix Black."_

_Ron groaned slightly. "Blimey, a Black?! That's not good. That's the opposite of good!"_

"_Why should I be worried about that?" Hermione asked._

"_My uncle Sirius told me a lot of stories about his family and about Bellatrix in particular," said Harry. "They're pure-blood fanatics. They're basically the Ku Klux Klan of the wizarding world. He told me that when she was in Hogwarts, she turned a whole group of Muggle-born students into a chickens, gave them to the house-elves to be cooked and then had them served to the first-years. If even half of the stories about her are true then there's no way you'll be treated fairly, Hermione. She'll go out of her way to land you in Azkaban or worse! You can't tell her!"_

_Hermione's mind was reeling. Oh, no, not another one of those. Not another Purity Front fanatic. Truly, the Wizarding World was sick to the core. She told herself that this was the time to be brave, show off that Gryffindor courage and meet fate head on. But she wasn't protecting only herself, but also her friends now. Once again, she blamed herself for getting them involved. _

"_And we just go to class like usual?" Ron hissed. "This is insane, Harry."_

"_We act normal, as if nothing's happened or we'll look suspicious! We need to stay under the radar until this blows over, Ron."_

"_What's a radar, Harry?"_

_Hermione could only shake her head. How'd she ever get herself into this terrible, terrible mess?_

* * *

Hermione, her head held low, whispered almost impossibly softly. "I never meant to hurt him..."

Suddenly, Ronald Weasley rose from his chair and imperiously challenged the dark witch. "I, Ronald Weasley, confess to the murder of Peter Pettigrew."

"Ron, no!" Hermione groaned while Harry face-palmed.

"I did it! It was me! I killed him with magic! And an axe!" he held out his hands. "Put the manacles on me. Take me Azkaban. Leave Hermione alone, she's innocent because I did it!"

A very irritated Bellatrix stared the young Weasley boy down. "I already know what happened, you moron," the dark witch spoke through clenched teeth. "Now stop wasting my time with your bullshit."

"But I conf..."

"SIT DOWN!" Bellatrix shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing the Weasley boy to sit back down at the speed of light. The dark witch swore that the red-haired boy looked like he was about to crap himself.

"However noble your intentions," Bellatrix spat the word 'noble' as if it was a curse from Hades. "They aren't necessary. Because Peter Pettigrew's death was _self-inflicted_! And that is what my report will say! There was no murder that night!"

Both boys looked stunned, but Dumbledore's smile widened ever so slightly.

"Miss Granger went over to speak with mister Pettigrew. Miss Granger was unwilling to be blackmailed any more and threatened to expose mister Pettigrew's black market racket. They got into an argument, upon which Mister Pettigrew decided to teach miss Granger a lesson and fired off a hex at her. In fact, I consider it quite likely that mister Pettigrew had the intent to murder miss Granger right then and there to keep his own secret. There's one thing he hadn't counted on, however. Shall I tell you what that is?"

The boys looked at her, almost expectantly. No, of course Hermione hadn't told them.

"Reflecto Malificarum!" Bellatrix took a moment to wink at Hermione.

* * *

"_You're not going to blackmail me any longer," Hermione whimpered while she stood in front of the rat-faced Pettigrew in his living quarters, but immediately cursed herself; she had sounded so much braver and forceful when she practiced it in front of the mirror earlier today._

_As it was, the rat didn't seem impressed in any way. "Is that so?" he chuckled. "Well, that is quite rude of you, miss Granger. Let me give you a little lesson in economics. You see, you have a dire need for insoma. And I happen to be the only supplier you can approach. That means that I decide how much my stock is worth, not you. It's not as if you can go somewhere else. No, I think you will pay my asking price."_

"_This is highway robbery!" Hermione retorted, but couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice. "Your price was never this high! And you always accepted trades before!"_

"_My needs change, miss Granger, and my prices change with it," said Pettigrew. "Oh, don't look at me like that, miss Granger. This is just business, nothing else. Just... think for a moment. What would happen to you if you stop taking the potion now. The withdrawal... it's brutal, miss Granger," he grinned as he paced around Hermione, who stood her ground in the middle of the room. "The first thing that happens is that you'll get very, very ill. Oh, it'll start slow – you'll grow pale, you'll start shaking, but soon after that, you won't be able to keep food down. Then the shivers start. And that's only the beginning. There'll be pain. There'll be desire that'll drive you to insanity. And the hallucinations, oh, the hallucinations. You will be in a hell of your own making, miss Granger."_

_Hermione had to suppress a shudder. Of course she had read up about the horrible withdrawal symptoms insoma could cause, but she had never expected to have to go through it. How could this have happened? She'd planned it so carefully, after all. Where did she go wrong?_

"_Besides," grinned Pettigrew. "What do you think will happen if McGonagall finds out that her favorite little mudblood is, in fact, a colossal junkie?"_

_Hermione closed her eyes. Both implications were decidedly unthinkable._

"_So," said Pettigrew. "Be a good little girl and slink back to your dorm. I'm certain that your friend Potter would love to help you out. His family is very rich, you know? Until then..."_

_Pettigrew sauntered over to his desk and held out a bottle with insoma for Hermione to see. Immediately, the young witch felt the cravings return; she had gone through her entire supply and here was a pack of three whole bottles right within reach. She needed it. Oh god, she needed it so much. An involuntary shiver shook her entire body. "... the food court's closed," he said and clasped the packet shut._

_However, Hermione had one card left to play. "I'm not the only one with secrets!" Hermione spat, having found her courage. "I know what you've been doing, what you've been selling and to whom. And I know there'll be consequences for you if I tell McGonagall what I know about you."_

_She saw the expression on the rat's face change and she knew she had him. "So here's what we'll do: you'll keep supplying me potions for a fair price, like we agreed upon. You will keep my secret and I will keep yours!"_

_At first she was rather pleased with herself; she managed to change the balance of power between them. Certainly, she was dependent on him, but that didn't mean that she would simply give in without a fight. And it wasn't as if she asked him much; she simply wanted a fair price for his wares._

_Never in a million years had she expected him to draw a wand on him. Hermione gasped and took a step back while he advanced on her, a dangerous expression on his face. "I think it's time for a little girl to realize their place!" he hissed and mumbled a spell before Hermione could even react._

_Six red orbs shot from his wand and barreled towards her. Instinctively, Hermione brought up her arms in an attempt to protect herself from the coming impact. However, the expected pain never came. Instead, there was a crackle of magic in the air and a tell-tale smell of ozone which always came when her shield was hit. Cast before she always left the dorm, her Reflecto Malificarum protected her from prank hexes and now from something potentially even more damaging._

_Not knowing what was going on, Pettigrew merely stood there as his six magic missiles bounced off Hermione's shield and shot back towards him. He yelled as the missiles hit home, burning into his clothes and his flesh. The rat staggered backwards from the impact, tripped over the rug and toppled backwards._

_A sickeningly loud crunch was heard when the back of his head slammed into the metal bedpost. His body went limp after it sank to the ground, laying in his back._

"_M-mister Pettigrew?" Hermione asked softly, almost a whisper. "A-are you alright?"_

_Still in denial, Hermione carefully took a few steps towards him. But the moment she saw his expression, his dead eyes, she brought her hands to her mouth and almost let out a cry. This wasn't happening! This couldn't be happening!_

_What was she going to do?!_

_Her eyes were drawn back to the packet of potion on the desk. Immediately, she ran towards it, yanked out a bottle and downed the whole contents in one gulp. It was more than she usually took, but this was an extraordinary circumstance. Her body protested, however, and it took her a lot of willpower to keep herself from wretching up the precious potion. Almost immediately, she felt alive, energized and calm. Insoma... insome was heaven on earth. The cravings were gone, the shakes had stopped. Finally, she felt she was strong enough to get help. Yes. Harry and Ron. They'd know what to do, though deep in her heart, she knew that she'd have to tell the truth._

_She took the two remaining potions and stored them somewhere safe before going to find her friends, while doubt was already nagging at her in the back of her mind._

* * *

"Yes, miss Granger's Reflecto Malificarum-spell... that really is a horrible name, by the way. That spell is under review with the teachers and its existence is not yet public knowledge. Mister Pettigrew had no idea it existed or how to defend against it." Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "As his own hex was reflected back to him, mister Pettigrew staggered back in surprise, slipped and hit his head on the bedpost, killing him instantly. His death was an accident and was never miss Granger's fault."

"Madam Black?" Potter dared to interrupt. "Do you really think he would have killed Hermione?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment; of course, the three students had no idea what kind of business Pettigrew had been running on the side and she couldn't reveal the existence of the confiscated illegal items for fear ruining the entire operation. However, it was a very real and valid reason why he couldn't have risked exposure, and Hermione would have known more about his black market dealings than most. "I have reason to believe so, yes," she said diplomatically.

"That rotter," Weasley spoke up in anger. "We should have bunged him down the well!"

"All the three of you are guilty of is a misguided attempt to hide the truth," Bellatrix spoke. "I will file my report and make the following recommendations; first of all, this case will be classified as an accident. Secondly, I will recommend to leave full disciplinary measures up to the school's discretion. Finally, I will order mandatory detox for miss Granger at St. Mungo's, to start tomorrow morning. And this mean that I am done with my investigation. I will send over someone from the Department to take your statements for the official records tomorrow. I expect you all to be truthful and trust you won't enter any bogus confessions. That means _you,_ mister Weasley."

The dark witch shot the red-haired boy a foul look; his intentions might have been noble, but she was not someone who suffered fools gladly.

Massive relief washed over the faces of all three students, to be followed up by a slow and well-meant applause from Dumbledore. "Bravo, Bellatrix, bravo. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing."

Bellatrix said nothing, but offered the old wizard a brief nod.

"What will happen to us now?" asked the Weasel-boy.

Bellatrix was about to speak when Dumbledore took a step forward. "I will field that question if I may, Bellatrix."

"Of course," the dark witch nodded.

Dumbledore scraped his throat. "If Bellatrix's report of this incident is up to her usual standard of quality, and with the Wizengamot being overworked as it is, it is very unlikely that there will be a trial. Perhaps there will be an informal hearing with the Chief Warlock, who is myself, but we'll determine that later. Peter Pettigrew's death is a tragic accident, but he has brought it upon himself with his own actions. As Bellatrix said, disciplinary measures for yourself and mister Potter, will be left to the school's discretion. After we have settled on an appropriate punishment, I will be sending a letter to your families explaining what has taken place."

The weasel-boy looked even more frightened now. Ronald Weasley hung his head low and sighed heavily. "Oh, no," he whimpered. "Mum is going to kill me..."

"As for you, miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Tomorrow morning, I will release you into Bellatrix's custody and she will bring you to St. Mungo's tomorrow for treatment. All your academic endeavors will be put on hold."

Hermione looked up, first at Dumbledore, then at Bellatrix. "Am I..." Hermione's voice was small, her expression even more terrified than ever before. "... expelled?"

"Heavens, no," Dumbledore shook his head and lay a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Bellatrix couldn't help but notice this was just how he had been seated next to _her_ so long ago, trying to comfort a devastated student. "I want you to be fully focused on one thing and one thing alone: getting better. That will be your only and most pressing assignment, miss Granger. Anything else can wait until then."

"Thank you... head master," Hermione replied softly.

"Well, now that this whole nasty business is behind us, is there anyone here who would like a chocolate frog?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully as if nothing had happened.

The dark witch shook her head, wondering just how much this old man in front of her had known up front. "I do believe I shall have one," said Bellatrix. A chocolate frog was quickly given, and it dutifully hopped from her hand right into her mouth. After consuming the chocolate, Bellatrix put her hands in her side. "Which leaves me with one last question. If mister Pettigrew's death was so obviously an accident, why didn't you just tell me the truth to begin with?"

The three Gryffindors looked at each other for a moment. "That, uhm, that might have been my fault," Harry Potter spoke up.

"Might have been?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"My uncle Sirius, well... some of the stories he tells about you... It's just that, mister Pettigrew was a pure-blood and with Hermione being a Muggle-born... We didn't think you'd be impartial."

Bellatrix rubbed her forehead for a moment. "Typical. Well, no matter. This case is solved. May I have another chocolate frog, please?" she asked Dumbledore.

"Of course," said the old wizard. "If you would please excuse me, Bellatrix, I would like to talk to my students in private for a moment."

Bellatrix nodded. Her job done and with a mouthful of chocolate, the dark witch turned to leave.

"Officer Black!" Potter called after her. Bellatrix turned around and waited for him to continue. "My uncle Sirius. He... He's wrong about you."

The dark witch chuckled. "My idiot cousin is wrong about a lot of things. Remember that."

* * *

Bellatrix leaned against one of the stone pillars at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Dumbledore's office, waiting. Potter and the Weasel-boy had left the office a tad earlier, but Hermione was still inside. She could only imagine that the two of them had a lot to discuss. Almost instinctively, the dark witch hummed a tune from the Muggle world she had heard recently and which had wormed its way into her head for some time as she waited.

"_Peaches come from a can. They put there by a man. In facto_... WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" she interrupted her own whispered song when two passing Ravenclaws looked at her in a funny way. She stared daggers at them until they rounded about the corner. However, it had completely ruined the moment. _Ah, it was just a stupid Muggle song anyway._

Finally, and to her relief, Hermione emerged from the office. There were tears in her eyes, but not of the sad variety.

"Pet," she called over.

"Bellatrix, you're still here!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise.

"Where else would I be, hm?" Bellatrix shrugged. "Excluding my apartment. Or my workplace. Come to think, there's not many other people I could be. Did old man Dumbledore give you a hard time?"

Hermione shook her head. "He _apologized_ to me, of all things. That Hogwarts put so much pressure on me that I felt the need to resort to insoma-potions."

"Fancy that," Bellatrix said as she wrapped an arm around the young witch's waist. She noticed that, in natural light, Hermione once again a rather sickly quality to her complexion. Withdrawal was taking its course.

"It's odd, really," said Hermione. "Yesterday, a few hours after you left the library to speak with Dumbledore, I was thinking about what I should do. I was terrified, I felt so alone and I felt so guilty that I had dragged my friends into all of this. Then suddenly, Dumbledore was standing next to me..."

* * *

"_Miss Granger," spoke Dumbledore, causing Hermione to start. The young witch had been standing on the wooden bridge leading to Hogsmeade, looking down on the valley below. She had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Thoughts about what had happened, about her friends, how she made them complicit. It made her feel a guilt so terrible she had never experienced before. Hermione turned to Dumbledore, but was almost afraid to meet his eyes; she had so much to be ashamed of, from a terrible addiction she had contracted due to her own foolishness, to being involved in the ending of mister Pettigrew's life._

_Oh, how she wished she could turn back the clock and never touch insoma. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have messed up her life so badly?_

"_I didn't mean to startle you," said Dumbledore as the two of them stood next to each other. "The view is rather nice, wouldn't you say?"_

_Hermione could only nod._

"_Miss Granger, you seem troubled," Dumbledore spoke matter-of-factly. "Is there something you would like to talk about? Perhaps it will make you feel better."_

_Hermione looked upon the kindly old wizard, the man who always looked out for his students, and her shame increased tenfold; she did not deserve his kindness. The old wizard smiled at her, though, and lay a hand on her shoulder._

"_I... just have a lot on my mind," Hermione spoke. Images of Bellatrix Black came floating to her mind once more. The hauntingly beautiful dark witch was definitely someone whom had grabbed her attention. Miss Black had intelligence, was so insightful, not to mention more than a little terrifying. Yet... alluring. Strange feelings overcame her whenever she thought of Bellatrix, feelings she didn't quite make sense of. She felt like a moth being drawn to a flame; even though she knew she had to stay out of the fire, there was such a powerful attraction at play._

"_I've been told you've been talking to miss Black in the library," Dumbledore smiled._

_There was a sharp intake of breath for a moment, and she turned to Dumbledore. "Head master," she started. "It's strange... in a way she's just like the prejudiced pure-bloods in Slytherin, but... at the same time, she's not. She's more clever than them, more... level-headed."_

"_Ah, Bellatrix," Dumbledore smiled warmly for a moment. "Dear Bellatrix."_

_The old wizard leaned on the parapet, motioning Hermione to stand next to him. "Miss Granger, in her youth, Bellatrix Black was a very troubled individual. She was raised to be the perfect pure-blood, yet today she has been tempered by having to fend for herself after her graduation. I still remember the day she sat in my office, having just made a choice to go against everything she had ever known. Her sheer courage was beyond inspiring. In another life, she could have been an amazing Gryffindor."_

_Hermione nodded briefly._

"_I'll tell you the same thing I told Bellatrix so long ago. There's always a choice, miss Granger, as long as you're willing to live with the consequences."_

"_What if I... don't want to make that choice?" Hermione asked carefully. "Or can't make that choice?"_

"_Then the choice will be made for you," said Dumbledore. "And the outcome might not be as favorable as you might be hoping for."_

_Hermione nodded again._

_The old wizard put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever is on your mind, miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "You can trust Bellatrix. I guarantee it."_

_The young witch looked away. "I can't stop thinking about her," said Hermione, almost a whisper._

"_Indeed?" a smile tugged on the old wizard's lips while a twinkle appeared in his eyes. "In that case, maybe, just maybe, you will both find what you are looking for."_

"_And what is it what both of us are looking for?" Hermione asked softly._

_Dumbledore merely smiled. "You'll see."_

* * *

"Dumbledore," Bellatrix couldn't help but smile to herself. "Meddlesome old codger."

"I'm glad he meddled," Hermione matched her smile. "I have to ask, though. Did you really turn a whole group of Muggle-borns into chickens and gave him to the house-elves to be cooked and served to the first-years afterward?"

Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, that story gets more fantastical every time I hear it, but honestly, pet, I thought you were smarter than that. If I had fed the first-years human meat, I'd still be in Azkaban now. But to answer your question, yes, pet, I turned _one_ Muggle-born into a chicken, but not because he was a Muggle-born. Whoever told you that story conveniently left out that this particular Muggle-born was a perverted rotter who was spying on the girls' dressing room after advanced flying lessons. I wasn't exactly, well, alone in the shower if you catch my meaning... So I turned him into a chicken to teach him a lesson. And might have, well, made a few threats."

"Oh, dear," Hermione laughed.

"And no, I didn't give him to a chef to be cooked and served. In fact, he was rather cute so I wanted to keep him as a pet. I had him on a leash already, but McGonagall made me turn him back. Hag!"

Together, they stood on a balcony at the bottle of the Headmaster's Tower, overlooking the main courtyard below. Students walked back and fro, but Bellatrix paid them no mind. Not when Hermione was too close to her; also the smell of Hermione's freshly washed hair was quite nice. Apparently, the girl used a shampoo which smelled of oranges.

"How do you feel, pet? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look terrible," Bellatrix asked.

Hermione was nothing if deadly honest, "That's because I_ feel _terrible. Utterly, utterly terrible. My body is screaming for more potion. I had half a bottle left, but I didn't take the last of it. I almost didn't do it, but I was strong and poured it down the sink. It felt like such a relief. I don't want that poison in my life anymore."

"Smart, pet. Smart," Bellatrix said.

"Smart," Hermione scoffed. "If I'd have been smarter, I wouldn't have touched insoma with a ten-foot bargepole. I wouldn't have become addicted, my friends wouldn't be in trouble and mister Pettigrew would still be alive."

"And we would never have met, pet," said Bellatrix wryly. "Call me selfish, but I'd say your insoma addiction has had some benefits."

"True," Hermione smiled warmly. The two of them stood next to each other in silence for a moment. "Oh, I found the loose floorboard you mentioned."

Bellatrix smiled when Hermione handed her an old fading moving photograph. It had been taken when she, Andromeda and six other Slytherin had conquered Gryffindor Tower. In the photograph, all eight of them laughed and raised a bottle of pumpkin juice, while Bellatrix and Andromeda hugged. Walter Crabbe, the bruiser of the lot, picked up the tiny Andromeda and put the giggling girl on his shoulders. Walden Macnair and Rabastan Lestrange had their boots neatly parked on the Gryffindor's clean leather couch. Meanwhile, Evelyn Greengrass was prim and proper as ever, getting ready to start filing her nails. The Blishwick twins, in the meantime, were taking down one of the Gryffindor quidditch trophies to pour pumpkin juice in and drink from it. Slytherins of all years working together to bring down a hated enemy. Ah, good times. Bellatrix couldn't help but wonder how they were all doing.

"I didn't feel right to remove your 'claim' from the common room," Hermione said. "I left it underneath the floorboard."

Ah, yes. Along with the picture, they left a claim of ownership, signed by all eight, saying that Gryffindor Tower had been claimed in the name of Slytherin, and that Bellatrix had been elected to be the viceroy of this new Slytherin territory. And she had been. For a full five hours.

Bellatrix pocketed the photograph and decided she would pick up a frame for it next time she was at Diagon alley. Some memories were meant to last.

"You should get some rest," Bellatrix said. "You're checking into St. Mungo's first thing in the morning."

Hermione smiled and shook her head briefly. "I don't sleep, remember? Downside of this addiction. And there's another one."

"Hm?" Bellatrix asked.

"We'd be making love right now if I hadn't started shaking."

Bellatrix grinned slightly and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Well, I guess I'll have to owe you."

"Where do we go from here, Bellatrix?" Hermione asked.

"_You_, pet, are going into rehab to get that addiction out of your system. After that, well, we'll see what happens."

Bellatrix took a moment to place a kiss on Hermione's forehead. The two embraced.

"This nightmare is finally over," Hermione replied and enjoyed Bellatrix's closeness. "God, I feel so relieved."

_No,_ Bellatrix thought to herself. _The worst is yet to come, pet_. Advanced insoma-withdrawal symptoms were nothing short of brutal, and Hermione had only experienced the tip of the iceberg. Still, there was one question remaining. "Pet," Bellatrix asked. "One of the side effects of insoma potion is increased libido. The night we spent together... how much of that because of the potion and how much was it because you... wanted to spend the night with me?"

Immediately, Bellatrix cursed herself. Merlin, what was wrong with her? She sounded like an insecure fifteen year old! Oh, how she hated to be vulnerable in front of anyone, especially Hermione.

The girl half-smiled and nodded in understanding. "It might have... given me a bit more courage which I otherwise would never had. But now that the insoma is out of my system, I'm left with all kinds of... feelings. Bellatrix, I would very much love to explore those feelings further."

There was a deep red flush on Hermione's cheeks after this admission, but Bellatrix was glad for it. The dark witch had to admit she was quite a bundle of nerves about it herself. Hell, love was a new terrain for her.

That made Bellatrix freeze for a moment. Love? Is that was this was? Yes, she supposed it was.

Merlin's balls on a stick, she was in love! _Love!_

"I'll never regret the wonderful night we spent together," Hermione spoke softly. "Nor the day that followed after."

Bellatrix shook her head briefly. "I might..." she replied, almost instinctively. Immediately, Hermione offered her a questioning look. "Oh, not like that," Bellatrix added quickly and lay her hand on Hermione's cheek. "It's just that we slept together while you were a suspect in my investigation. That's usually quite frowned upon by the Department. Honestly, pet, it's probably the stupidest thing I ever could have done. And you know what the worst thing is?"

Hermione offered her a questioning look.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat, and damn the consequences," Bellatrix chuckled.

"I see," laughed a relieved Hermione. "Will you get in trouble?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Don't know. I'll cross that bridge while I get to it. We were just... two people caught up in the passion of the moment."

"Two very lonely people," Hermione smiled sadly.

"Not anymore," Bellatrix grinned and embraced Hermione. The girl flew in her embrace. As they stood together, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"I'd like a kiss now, please," Hermione looked at her with smiling eyes.

Bellatrix smirked. "Making demands now, are we?"

"I did say 'please'."

"Well, since you asked nicely," Bellatrix teased. A kiss followed. It was a chaste kiss, a mere brush of lips. They were in a very public place, after all, and the Hogwarts rumor mill was already running in overdrive. However, it was a kiss with a promise of more to follow.

When the kiss was over, they looked each other in the eye, a peace only broken by a shocked and angry voice coming from behind them.

"Miss Black!" McGonagall challenged. "What on Earth do you think you are doing to my student?!"

Bellatrix didn't miss a single beat. "Well, seeing evening has fallen, I was planning to take her to the astronomy tower and shag the living daylights out of her underneath the light of the stars. Care to watch?"

"Bellatrix!" Hermione blushed red as a beet.

Sure, her pet might be upset with her for a bit, but sweet Merlin, the shock and horror on that hag McGonagall's face had been absolutely worth it.


	9. To protect and to serve

Hello everyone,

I've said before that this would be the last chapter of this particular arc of Murder Most Horrid, but this chapter has now grown so large and, considering I'm still adding new things, I've decided to split it up into two separate chapters. The next chapter is almost completely done (provided I stop adding new sections) and will probably be posted on Tuesday.

Hope you'll enjoy!

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 9: To protect and to serve._

Bellatrix was at Hermione's side while she checked in at St. Mungo's. Hospitals were not her favorite place in the world and this one was no exception to that rule. The air was rife with the smell of antiseptics and, to be fair, hospitals never 'felt right' to her to begin with.

For the duration of her detox, an entire month, Hermione'd be staying in at the Potions and Plants Poisoning wing. An apt name. The dark witch wasn't really paying much attention when the two of them sat in the office of Miriam Strout listening to the annoyingly cheerful healer explaining the procedures and the effects of the month-long treatment. Hermione, on the other hand, was completely focused.

In truth, Bellatrix didn't think Strout was worth listening to. She was sugar-coating reality. Meanwhile, the young witch was so determined to kick the addiction, so resolved. To say that Hermione would be going through hell was a massive understatement; insoma-potion addiction was brutal to shed. There'd be no help through magical means as that would have a negative effect on her treatment. She'd have to go completely cold turkey.

That prospect hadn't diminished Hermione's boundless optimism in the slightest. And, as Bellatrix had learned, once the girl had gotten something in her head, there was no talking her out of it. It was both inspiring and frightening to see.

"Why don't you go with nurse Ratched, Hermione?" Strout offered a friendly smile after getting up from her desk. She lay a hand on the girl's shoulder. "She'll take you to your room and help you settle in."

Hermione thanked Strout and shot Bellatrix a warm smile before the nurse took her into the hallway. "If you just sign the release forms, detective Black," said Strout. "I promise you we'll take good care of her."

Bellatrix took the clipboard, took out a quill and signed the dotted line. "Why did you lie to her?" Bellatrix asked.

Strout took the clipboard. "Lie? I wouldn't say that. I did... neglect to mention some of the harsher effects of insoma withdrawal. I simply don't want to discourage miss Granger before her treatment even starts. Her attitude is amazing. She's going to need it."

"Is that why you allowed her friends to host that party for her?" Bellatrix asked.

"The truth is," said Strout. "She's going to need the support of her friends to get through this... Friends _and_ loved ones."

The look she gave Bellatrix as that moment said enough. "Noticed that, hm?" was her reply.

"A blind, deaf person would notice," Strout replied. "They way the two of you look at each other says it all."

"Well, it seems I have a party to attend, then," Bellatrix said while rising out of her chair.

As part of her recovery, her friends had organized a 'get well soon'-party for Hermione in one of the hospital's staff rooms on the first floor. Miriam Strout had allowed it, since, like she said, keeping a positive outlook would be vital to Hermione's recovery.

There were about thirty people in total, mostly students from Hogwarts. Certainly, for someone who claimed to not be very popular, Hermione had a lot of friends who had come out to wish her luck. The Weasely twins had secured cheerful animated party favors, even including a few baby dragons who used their fire-breath to make freshly roasted peanuts. A girl she had met before, one Luna Lovegood, was hanging up strange snow-shoe shaped objects to keep things called Aquavirius Brain Maggots away from Hermione to speed her recovery. Harry Potter and the Weasel-boy were there as well; she understood that they had gotten off relatively lightly as their punishment would be to clean out the owlry after school hours for the remainder of the year.

While the kids were having fun, Bellatrix felt more and more like an intruder. Really, she hardly knew any of these kids and just awkwardly stood by the side nursing a fizzy drink. It also didn't help that one of Hermione's teachers had shown up; McGonagall, of all people. Still, the two of them had an unspoken and silent temporary truce for Hermione's sake. Bellatrix stayed on one side of the room, McGonagall on the other. The dark witch chuckled to herself; so many wonderfully creative snarks would forever remain unspoken. Hermione'd better appreciate this!

Sweet Merlin, she wished her fizzy drink was fire-whiskey right now. She felt like she could drink a whole bottle.

"Bellatrix?"

Hermione. Bellatrix hadn't even noticed her approach.

"Hm, hello pet," the dark witch spoke. She wanted to reach out to touch Hermione's cheek, but changed her mind halfway through, letting her arm drop to her side. "How many of them know about us?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder. "Well, McGonagall does, obviously."

"Of course. Hag!"

"I told Harry first," Hermione said. "Once he stopped laughing he wished us the best. Ron, well... he's still dealing, but he'll come around."

Bellatrix looked at the crowd and saw the Weasel-boy looking at them. The moment Ron spotted her looking in his direction, he bowed his head and disappeared into the crowd. Hermione had apparently followed her gaze. "Everybody expected Ron and I to get together at some point. We saw each other for a while during our fifth year, but decided to just remain friends. Oh, Luna knows. It's hard to keep secrets from her since she's so frighteningly perceptive. As for the others, well, I think most them either know or suspects. The Hogwarts rumor will works frighteningly fast. It's like a force of nature."

"I see," Bellatrix sighed heavily, but finished what she'd started early; she lay a hand on Hermione's cheek and gently caressed her soft skin with her thumb. Hermione blushed slightly, and covered Bellatrix's hand with her own. The dark witch wanted to kiss her then and there.

"You're not happy, are you?" spoke before Bellatrix had the chance to lean in.

"I... really shouldn't be here, pet," Bellatrix shook her head. "Too many people, too many loud noises. This is a party for you and your friends. I'm the outsider here."

"Nonsense," said Hermione as she hooked her arm around Bellatrix' and started dragging her towards her chatting friends. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Bellatrix blanched. "I, uh, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Come on, I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

"Perhaps, but would _I_ love to meet _them_?! You ever think of that?"

"Hush, now." Any protest was futile; once the young witch had an idea in her head, after all...

When the party ended, Hermione was officially admitted and her detox had started. At first, Hermione had been optimistic and cheerful, ready to meet the challenge head-on like any other. She had a lot of support; plenty of friends and Bellatrix who visited her every day.

It quickly went downhill.

* * *

It was friday evening, five days after Hermione had been admitted to St. Mungo's. As per usual, Bellatrix visited after working hours and had stopped by the hospital's gift shop to buy a fresh batch of flowers to liven up Hermione's dull grey hospital room.

As days passed by, Hermione had just gotten sicker and sicker and sicker. Today was no different.

"Hello pet," Bellatrix greeted with a soft voice while entering the room. There was no reply, but really Bellatrix wasn't expecting any. The dark witch put the flowers in a vase on a small table near the window. On the table were more flowers and other gifts, such as boxes of chocolate and candy.

Not that Hermione would be in a state to eat it anytime soon. In fact, Hermione couldn't keep any food down at all. She'd lost a full stone in the first week and had to be fed intravenously.

Bellatrix took a fold-out chair and sat next to her pet, now a shivering lump underneath a pile of blankets on her bed. The young witch lay in a fetal position, and as soon as he had apparently heard Bellatrix shifted the chair towards her, her head popped out from under the blankets.

The dark witch's breath caught in her throat; Hermione looked terrible. Drenched in sweat, her hair was matted against her ashen gray skin. She looked up to her with wide and blood-shot eyes. Her hand slid out from underneath the blankets and found Bellatrix's. No doubt the girl tried to squeeze, but lacked the strength for it.

"B... Belle..." Hermione croaked out, unable to pronounce her full name without choking on her own words.

"I'm here pet," Bellatrix replied. "Sssh, don't speak."

"C-cold..." Hermione shivered. "Why... am I... so cold?"

Bellatrix felt the girl's forehead. She was absolutely burning up.

"C-could... you... anoth... blanket... please?"

Despite her better judgment, Hermione was burning up as it was after all, the dark witch went to the cupboard near the door and fetched another blanket. The young witched looked at her with gratitude while Bellatrix folded the blanket over her.

"B-belle," Hermione whispered. "I'm... going... to beat this... going... to get... better."

"I know you will, pet," replied Bellatrix. However, Hermione didn't sound nearly as sure about herself as she had been a few days ago.

"Still... so... cold..."

For the duration of the visiting hours, Bellatrix sat with Hermione. No words were exchanged, as Hermione became somewhat delirious soon after and mumbled something unintelligible once in a while. The dark witch settled for merely holding the girl's hand. Ever so often, a nurse came in to check up on her, waving a wand over the bed and apparently deciding Hermione was doing fine. If anything about this could be called fine.

Eventually, visiting hours came to an end and Bellatrix had to reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand when nurse Ratched came into the room to chase her off hospital ground. There was a brief whimper heard coming from underneath the heap of blankets.

"I'll be back tomorrow, pet," the dark witch whispered. "Be strong."

Once outside in the hallway, Bellatrix took a moment to regain her composure. She hated feeling this powerless; there was no spell to fix this, no potion, no charm, not even a Dark Art to help Hermione. All she could do was sit next to her and hold her hand. And what the hell would that even accomplish?

The sounds of the heels of her boots hitting the floor echoed through the hallways of the hospital. Just like yesterday, it was time to head to the Leaky Cauldron to get completely hammered.

* * *

It was a day halfway through the second week of Hermione's treatment and, thank the stars, the girl had been doing much better compared to last week. Though her system had gone through quite a shock, she was no longer confined to her bed and was moving about a bit more. According to Luna Lovegood, whom she had spoken the day before in the hospital gift shop, Hermione was taking small meals again.

Today Bellatrix had been delayed to a lengthy review of one of her cases; the Flint kid's case would be going to trial soon and the prosecutor had wanted to discuss some of the finer details of with her. Of course, the idiot had been droning on and on and on about details she had explained ad nauseum several times in a row already. So much in fact that she had almost missed visiting hours.

The dark witch had hurriedly rushed to Hermione room, only to find the young witch falling into her arms the moment she entered.

"Easy there, pet," Bellatrix laughed while Hermione, who was wearing a comically oversized hospital gown, clutched onto her. "I know I'm late, but..."

Whatever sentence the dark witch had wanted to say caught in her throat the moment she saw the madness in Hermione's eyes. There was desperation in it, a hunger. The wrong kind of hunger.

"Please," Hermione's fingers dug into Bellatrix's arm. "I need some insoma. Please, Bellatrix. Just a drop. Just a tiny drop. It won't hurt if it's just a tiny drop. You love me, don't you? Please, please, I need it so much. If you really love me, you'll get some for me. Please!"

Bellatrix was startled by the mad look in Hermione's eyes: the witty, smart and lovely young girl she had come to know and deeply care for was completely gone, replaced by a desperate beast who hungered for one thing only. All semblance of rationality had fled from the deathly pale girl.

She took a deep breath. "Hermione," she said gently. "You know I can't do that."

"Just a drop!" Hermione reaction was to burst into tears. "Just a tiny, tiny drop! That can't be so difficult, can it? It'd help me so much! Please! Please!"

The dark witch shook her head, laid her hands on Hermione's shoulders and gently pushed her away. She wordlessly turned her back to the stunned Hermione, walked out the door and closed it behind her.

Bellatrix stood in the hallway, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths. Yes, it was difficult seeing her in that state, but as painful as it was for her, it was best for Hermione to just walk away.

A sudden pounding on the door behind her sounded, and the face of Hermione hovered near the reinforced glass, her normally gentle expression twisted with horrible rage. "_You_ did this to me! It was _you_ who put me in here!" sounded the screams, muffled by the heavy wooden door and the glass. "I hate you! I wish I never met you! I HATE YOU!" The girl followed it up with an endless stream of foul obscenities which wouldn't be out of place at the London docks.

A torrent of emotions shot through the dark witch as she walked through the hallways back to the waiting area. In a rational sense, she knew that Hermione wasn't herself, that it was her addiction talking and she hadn't actually meant a word of it. But in the end, Bellatrix was only human and Hermione's words had hit her harder than ever she was expecting.

Bellatrix laughed bitterly while walking through the oppressively white corridors. _'You're supposed to be a cynical git, remember?' _she told hersel_f._

She passed the waiting room and noticed Potter and the Weasel-boy sitting there. The dark witch had been in such a hurry that she had never even seen them as she passed them by earlier. So much for her keen eye for detail.

Bellatrix sat down on one of the benches. Immediately, she saw that the boys were very downtrodden. Potter especially seemed rather disturbed. "You too, hm?" Bellatrix told the boys whom had been obviously been subject to Hermione's attempted guilt-tripping and subsequent outburst as well.

Potter only nodded in response.

"I think I can get her some," the Weasel-boy spoke up. "Fred and George might be able to track down some insoma. It won't hurt if it's just a little, right? Just a drop, like she said!"

"Ron," Harry started. "You know we can't."

Immediately, Bellatrix let out a snarl and was upon the Weasel-boy, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him against his chair. "I'll pretend... I haven't heard that. If even one drop, _even one,_ gets into her body right now it'll undo her entire treatment. She'll have to go through that hell all over again! Do you want that, Weasel? _DO YOU?!_ Because, I swear, if I catch you smuggling in insoma for Hermione, I'll hit you with a Cruciatus curse so intense that you'll spend the rest of your life drooling all over the floor of the loony bin!"

Ron gulped as the dark witch released him and sat back down on the bench, still seething. "That's... that's an Unforgivable," he could only stammer.

"Which I am officially _licensed_ to cast!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. It was a lie, pure and simple. The Department really didn't appreciate their cops throwing Unforgivables around unless the circumstances were really extreme. Of course, the Weasel-boy wouldn't know that.

"I... I just don't want Hermione to hate us, that's all," Ron said sheepishly while apparently making an intense study of floor tiles.

"Hermione doesn't hate us, Ron," Harry said, then suddenly smiled. A smile turned into a grin. A grin turned into a laugh.

"What are you laughing about?" Ron suddenly frowned. "Nothing about this is funny."

"Ron," Harry started. "You just said you could get your hands on an illegal substance... in front of a cop."

"Oh?" Ron bit his lip. "OH! Madam... officer... police... Black..."

The fearful looks Ron gave her were just too much; Bellatrix started laughing in spite of herself. "I told you before, that's _Detective Chief Inspector_ Black. Hm, I don't know. Maybe I should bring you in," she said as she playfully cracked her knuckles. "It's been a while since I've had a gruelling twelve-hour long interrogation session. Few things in life give me as much pleasure."

As Ron blanched even further, both Harry and Bellatrix laughed even harder. A bright spot on this day of misery.

* * *

After the incident, Bellatrix decided to give Hermione some space and didn't visit for a couple of days. It was surprisingly difficult for her, and preferred to spent most of her evenings drowning herself in fire-whiskey at the Leaky Cauldron rather than sitting at home thinking about Hermione. It had been a good decision, though, since Strout had told her that Hermione had been getting increasingly violent to a point that she had had to be restrained on more than one occasion. Strout had told her she would send her a message when Hermione would be ready to receive visitors again.

To pass the time, Bellatrix did the only thing she could: she threw herself on her work.

In the lull between cases, the members of Magical Homicides would often help each other out with the angles of their perspective cases. Petunia was handling a case in which a witch had given herself a false alibi by having an accomplice drink a polyjuice potion and Bellatrix had to admit she was impressed that Petunia had managed to figure that out so swiftly. It also had just about the right level of complexity to keep Bellatrix's wandering mind focused and busy.

Of course, all of her colleagues were now quite aware of her involvement with Hermione, and that hag McGonagall was responsible for that. The old bitch had sent a whole series of letters of complaint to Jensen, which her poor boss had all dutifully answered with the standard diplomatic 'bugger you' reply letter. Most of the original complaints had ended up pinned to the office's bulletin board, however, for everybody to have a good laugh at Bellatrix' expense. They, however, were all genuinely happy for her, and mostly offered some good-natured riffing with endless questions if Hermione was a 'go-er'.

"Trix, got a moment?" Jensen called from his office. A few minutes later, Bellatrix was sitting opposite to her boss in his office with the door closed. The look on his face wasn't encouraging. He rubbed the side of his scalp for a moment before leaning on his desk.

"Trix," Jensen started. "There's something I've been putting off for a bit now, but there is something we do need to discuss."

"Who did I piss off this time, mum?" Bellatrix snorted.

"You pissed off _me!_" Jensen narrowed his eyes before throwing the Pettigrew case-file on his desk. "I've read your report about the Pettigrew case. I couldn't help but notice you omitted certain details about your nocturnal activities."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed. She knew this would be coming. "I see."

"You slept with a suspect, during an investigation," Jensen spoke. "That's not very professional. In fact, that's the very opposite of professional! The little fact of you dragging miss Granger to your bed might not be included in any official reports, but unlike what the pencil-pushers say, that doesn't mean it never happened!"

"I know," she sighed. "I admit it's perhaps not the smartest thing I've ever done, but I'll never regret it."

"Well, you should!" Jensen raised his voice. ""Godammit, Trix, what were you thinking?! Wait, don't answer that, I have a pretty good idea what you were thinking. Don't you realize what you've done?! You've potentially cast your entire case in a negative light."

"Look," Bellatrix challenged. "All the facts are in the file, and my conclusion has been drawn by meticulously analyzing those facts. There's no other outcome than I have described and I'll challenge anyone to claim otherwise!"

Jensen wouldn't let go. "Which you've made questionable due to your stupidity, you cack-handed moron!" he shouted, making Bellatrix flinch. The accusation made her angry, that was for sure... but the worst thing was that Jensen was also absolutely right. She _had_ acted unprofessionally. She _had_ endangered her case. Sleeping with Hermione _had_ been a gross violation of the rules of conduct.

"Your conclusion is valid and fits the facts flawlessly. I know that, you know that, miss Granger knows that... but others will claim that you let miss Granger off easily because you were infatuated with her. Wickeder tongues could claim that you have abused your power to lure miss Granger into your bed in exchange for preferential treatment! You have devalued your own integrity, potentially damaging to yourself, your career and the entire Department! If a parasite like Rita Skeeker were to find out about this... I don't even want to think about what could happen! Welcome to the front page, miss Black."

"Seriously, mum," Bellatrix smirked and flipped her hair. "I'd rather be a page-three girl. I still have physique for it, if I do say to myself."

That was not the response Jensen had been hoping for. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?!" he roared. _"_DO YOU SEE ME LAUGHING?! DO YOU?!"

Bellatrix could only nod. This was a time to just sit back and take the hit; any lip back would only make things worse.

"It's sheer dumb luck that it turned out the way it did. It's out of the official reports, but if this had gone to trial in any shape or form, any defense attorney worth his salt would have had your head on a silver platter! As it is, you'll be happy to know the Wizengamot, in its infinite wisdom, has decided your rapport is sufficient and there won't be a trial or even an informal hearing," said Jensen. "I somehow suspect the Chief Warlock had a hand in that."

Bellatrix couldn't help but let out a wry laugh. Dumbledore… it always came back to Dumbledore.

"This is _not_ funny, Trix!" Jensen roared, apparently having misinterpreted the dark witch's chuckle. "The Department isn't going to risk endangering the investigation into the smuggling ring by holding a public hearing over small fry like Pettigrew. You crawled through the eye of the fucking needle!"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Are you quite done, mum?"

"Just one more thing," Jensen spoke, more softly this time. "Why did I have to hear about you and miss Granger through a letter of complaint and the office rumor mill? Why didn't you come to me yourself, hm? My door has always been open for any of my people. I've always defended you in the past. I've always trusted you. So why didn't you trust _me_?"

Bellatrix didn't have an answer for him. The disappointment in his voice and demeanor was obvious. In many ways, she'd rather have Jensen being angry with her. Easier to deal with.

"It's not like that, mum," Bellatrix shrugged. "Nothing about this is... usual. I never planned for anything to happen between me and Hermione. It just did."

"Yeah, I suppose I can understand that. Trix, I've always trusted your judgment," Jensen said. "And I still do. But I see I'm going to have to be stricter with you. To protect you from _yourself_ if anything."

"Anything else, mum?" Bellatrix sighed briefly.

Jensen's expression softened considerably. "Only that I wish you and miss Granger all the happiness in the world, Trix. Make it work. Make it worth it."

Bellatrix blinked, then nodded slightly. That was a turn of events she hadn't expected. "I... thanks, mum."

"Officially, I'm supposed to suspend you and give you a reprimand for your unprofessional behavior," Jensen smirked slightly.

Bellatrix chuckled. "So reprimand me already," she challenged. "It won't be the first time."

Jensen said nothing, but bent forward somewhat. He reached over and sharply tapped the back of her hand. "Naughty!" he spoke seriously, then smiled and sat back.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"I'm not sure I can survive this injustice," Bellatrix responded with a sarcastic edge on her voice. "You'll be hearing from my solicitor."

"I could still suspend you if it makes you feel better, but that'll increase the workload of the others so much that I suspect I will be lynched," Jensen shrugged.

Bellatrix nodded. "Normally, I wouldn't even have considered it, but... that girl, Jensen. That girl..."

"There's that look again!" Jensen laughed.

Bellatrix frowned. "What look?"

"That dreamy expression you get whenever you think of Hermione Granger," said Jensen. "It's pretty obvious to all of us that you're completely in love!"

Bellatrix grunted and shifted uncomfortably. Sweet Merlin, she must seem so sickeningly obvious to people around her. "Seen that, haven't you?"

"You're working normal hours for the first time since I've known you," said Jensen. "Trix, the last fifteen years I've seen you work yourself to death. You have a tendency to starve yourself when working on a case and then binging on junkfood. I don't even dare to count how many times you turned up for work completely hung over. Ever since you and miss Granger... it's as if a change is sweeping over you."

Bellatrix snorted. "I don't feel any different."

"But you _act_ different," Jensen said. "Trix, you're arrogant, you're rude, you're stubborn as all hell. You can't go a day without pissing off somebody and I daresay you enjoy pissing off people just a tad too much. Some might say you're downright self-destructive and more than a little nutty."

Bellatrix snorted. "You paint a bright picture, mum."

"You're also loyal, brave, smart as a whip, tenacious, one of the best damn cops in this entire Department and one hell of a witch," said Jensen. "Any super should count their lucky stars to have you on their team... but that doesn't make you any less of a tremendous pain in the arse, Black!" Jensen laughed for a moment.

Bellatrix watched her boss look away for a moment before locking eyes with her again. "Look," he said. "What I'm trying to say it that I'm happy for you. We all are. I've been telling you for the better part of fifteen years that you're working too hard. You can't just live for your work, Trix."

"Hah!" Bellatrix laughed. "Look who's talking! I think if we start counting hours put in at the office, Jensen, your count will be higher than mine.

"Hey, super's prerogative," he grinned and grabbed a file from his drawer. "In the meantime, I have a new case for you to handle. Special request from Investigations. I'm certain you will handle it with your usual due diligence."

Bellatrix took the file. It was good timing as she had finished her paperwork on the Pettigrew case and she was up for a new challenge. Curious as she was, she flipped through the file but found no mention of a murder. However, the name 'Mittens' was a returning feature in the file. And when she saw the picture of the 'victim'... Oh, no... this couldn't be right. Jensen wouldn't. He _wouldn't_!

"… You want me... to find… A missing kneazle?!"

Jensen sat back and grinned. "A fitting punishment!"

A bloody waste of her considerable talents, that's for sure! Still, all things considered Bellatrix figured that she had gotten off lightly. She might have lost some credit with Jensen, maybe a privilege or two, and she'd be stuck with a crap case for a bit, but... she still had Hermione. And that was everything.

"Get to it, Trix!" Jensen said. "Mittens isn't going to find himself!"

Bellatrix emerged from Jensen's office and practically threw the file onto her desk. After a few minutes of staring at it, she flipped it open and reluctantly started reading the reports inside. "_Alright,"_ she groaned inwardly. _"Where was Mittens last seen?"_

Rescue came in the form of a house-elf, informing her that someone had sent her a message by owl It was a letter from Miriam Straut. It told her Hermione needed her and to come as quickly as she could.

Not even two minutes later, Bellatrix was in Hermione's room, hugging the young witch tightly as they sat on the hospital bed together. "Please," Hermione cried. "I want it to end. Please, just let me die. I don't want to feel this pain anymore. Just... let it end, let me die. Let me die, please."

The dark witch felt hot tears touch her skin as she clutched Hermione to her. "Be strong, pet," Bellatrix whispered. "You'll get through this. Hey, there's still so much of the Muggle world left to show me. When you get better, you can take me anywhere you want to go, I promise. You're strong. You're a survivor."

Honestly, Bellatrix couldn't believe what she saying; the thought of going back to that awful Muggle world made her skin crawl just a bit. But maybe, just maybe, it would Hermione something to latch on to. The girl had so enjoyed being her guide to Muggle-London, after all. A promise had been made and Bellatrix always kept her word. "Just tell me where you want to go, pet and we'll go there. As long as you get better first, hm. No more nonsense about wanting to die. You don't want to die. Your friends don't want you to die. I don't want you to die."

"I can't take this anymore," Hermione sobbed.

A nurse entered the room and approached the two. Still holding on to Hermione, Bellatrix waved at the nurse with one hand to get her to keep her distance. "Pet," she whispered as she gently pushed Hermione down to the bed. "Nurse Ratched is here to give you something to help you sleep. Rest now, pet. I'll be right here."

"Yes," Hermione relaxed visibly as nurse Ratched prepared a syringe with a non-magical sedative. "Forever sleep. Never wake up again. No more pain..."

Revulsion shot through every fiber of Bellatrix's being; during this phase of the withdrawal, Hermione's own body was her worst enemy. Even breathing caused her to endure unbearable agony. Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to shout and scream. Who'd sell horrible stuff like insoma-potions for profit? If Pettigrew hadn't been already dead, Bellatrix would have made him wish he was.

The dark witch sat with her as the nurse administered the treatment; Hermione's breathing grew shallow as she started to fall into a dreamless slumber. Gone was the pained expression, and then she was her own peaceful and gentle self again. _So cute_, Bellatrix smiled to herself, being able to push Hermione's predicament to the back of her mind if only for a moment.

After making sure Hermione was sleeping peacefully, Bellatrix kissed her on the forehead before following the nurse out into the hallway. What she did not expect was to find Potter there; he was sitting on the ground, his knees pressed against his chest. His eyes were red and he shook his head ever so slightly.

"You saw that, hm?" Bellatrix said as she stood in front of him. Immediately, anger took hold of her at the pathetic display in front of her. "Get up," she snapped. "GET UP!"

Not giving Harry the time to respond, the dark witch yanked him to his feet and pushed him into the wall. "Oh, is ickle wittle baby Potter sad? Is ickle wittle baby Potter crying? Well, guess what, you _don't get_ to cry! You need to be strong for Hermione's sake. You can't let her see you like this, especially now!"

She could see from his expression that the boy was seething. Good. Bellatrix laughed inwardly; if she'd ever needed a new job she could probably find work as a tough love therapist. Her harsh words had put some steel in his spine, precisely what the boy had needed.

The two of them stood next to each other, leaning against the wall. "Don't act tough. You're just as upset as I am," said Potter. "You try to hide it, but you're not fooling me."

"Kid, I'm a complete and utter mess," Bellatrix admitted. "If you'd told me a couple of weeks ago I'd come care so much about a mu...glle-born, I'd have laughed in your face."

"Hermione tends to have that effect on people."

"I've noticed. Hey, you're eighteen, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I think both of us could use a whole lot of fire-whiskey right now and the Leaky Cauldron is still open for six whole hours."

Potter nodded. "I'll drink you under the table."

"We'll see about that."

Bellatrix won the bet due to having considerably more drinking experience. Still, it had been rather fun drowning her sorrows with someone else. Misery loved company after all, and Harry had been surprisingly good company.

The next day, Bellatrix went to work with a massive hangover and the Department received another stern letter of complaint from McGonagall. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one to start the day with a massive hangover.

* * *

In the third week of treatment, came the hallucinations.

The day started off simple enough and since Hermione had been doing much better the day before, Bellatrix didn't expect all that much trouble. However, when she entered Hermione's room, her heart skipped a beat; the young witch was missing. The bed didn't look as if it had been slept on, but she was both relieved and surprised when a very frightened Hermione popped out from under the bed. "Bellatrix!" she hissed. "Over here! Hurry!"

"Pet?" Bellatrix asked. "Wha..."

"Quickly!" hissed Hermione as she started pulling her underneath the bed. "Come on! Hide!"

And so Bellatrix found herself underneath Hermione's bed while the young witch clutched onto her. "Oh, Bellatrix, I'm so happy you've found me."

"Pet?" Bellatrix asked again. "What's going on here?"

"There's a dementor right above us!" Hermione spoke in hushed, yet panicked whispers.

In spite of herself, Bellatrix craned her neck so she could see past the frame of the bed to look at the ceiling. Of course, nothing but white plaster.

"There's nothing up there, pet," Bellatrix tried to sound as comforting as possible to calm down her young girlfriend, but it had no effect. Hermione was terrified as she held onto the dark witch.

"But it is! It's there! I can feel it. When... when I woke up this morning, it was hovering above me. It was... feeding," Hermione whispered in terror. "It took part of me with it, I feel so empty."

Bellatrix bit her lip. These were all signs of her progressing detox and treatment program. "It wants the rest of me!" Hermione closed her eyes in terror. "It wants the rest of my soul!"

"But there's nothing..."

"Don't look!" Hermione yanked Bellatrix further underneath the bed. "It'll get you too. I don't want it to get you too."

Bellatrix sighed heavily; Miriam Strout had warned her this might be coming; the imaginary dementor was some sort of metaphor Hermione had created in her mind to externalize her addiction, 'her awful experience' as Miriam Strout had put it. Bellatrix was supposed to encourage these fantasies. However, Strout had never mentioned being used as a pillow while lying underneath a bed on a cold and hard concrete floor.

"I'm with you, pet," Bellatrix tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "I'll keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I tried to cast a patronus to chase it off, but it didn't work," Hermione replied.

"But you don't have a wand," said Bellatrix.

"What are you talking about? It's right here in my hand," said Hermione. Bellatrix checked and noticed that one of Hermione's hands was clenched like a fist, holding something that was not there. "Are you alright? You're acting rather odd."

Bellatrix said and lay a hand on Hermione's head, stroking her hair to soothe her. "Pet. Where do you think we are?"

"What?" Hermione seemed slightly annoyed. "Why, the Forbidden Forest, of course? Where else would we be? The Forbidden Forest _is_ rather distinctive."

"Of course, pet, of course," Bellatrix whispered. "I'll stay with you."

At that moment, the door to the room opened and a second visitor stepped inside. "Hermione?" asked Harry Potter as he looked around the room. "Where are you?"

"HARRY!" Hermione hissed. "Get down here!"

Thankfully, the beds at St. Mungo's were quite large, so a rather flabbergasted Harry ended up lying under the bed right next to Bellatrix and Hermione. "Why are we underneath the bed?" Harry asked.

"Hallucination," Bellatrix whispered at him.

"What do we do now?" he said as he looked at the terrified girl clutching on to Bellatrix.

"Wait till she falls asleep. Shouldn't take long without insoma in her system," Bellatrix whispered. "Then we sneak out quietly."

"Right," Harry replied before shifting uncomfortably. "Ground's a bit hard."

"Oh, my heart bleeds," Bellatrix huffed.

"Still better than standing ankle-deep in owl-shit," Harry shrugged.

Silence followed as the three of them lay next to each other.

"So," started Harry.

"So..." replied Bellatrix.

"Do you follow quidditch?"

"No, I hate sports."

"Well, that's that topic exhausted, then."

"Yep."

"Conversation was easier when we had alcohol and weren't on the floor."

"Again, yep."

"Quiet, you two, or it'll hear us!" Hermione hissed.

"I have to admit, pet," Bellatrix laughed in spite of herself. "My life has gotten lot more interesting since I've met you."

"Bellatrix," Hermione clutched onto her. "Whatever happens, I'll never forget the time we've spent together. Or the night we made love. I won't let that dementor take that from me. I won't!"

"Ahum," said Harry. "Harry is lying right next to you two. Just a friendly reminder."

"Harry would do well to keep his ears shut, then!" Bellatrix snapped.

And so the three of them remained underneath the bed, the Potter boy often shifting around to avoid discomfort. Meanwhile, Hermione was close to drifting off. Being held in Bellatrix's arms gave the girl much needed comfort and the stress had already taken its toll. It would only be a matter of waiting it out, carefully putting the sleeping girl to bed and sneaking away.

That is, until Ronald Weasley came to visit. The red-haired boy stepped onto the room and loudly announced his presence. Both Harry and Bellatrix did their best to try to frantically and silently gesture for Ron to get lost, but it was of no use. The thick Weasley boy knelt down at the bed. "Blimey, what are you lot doing down there?!"

"RON!" a suddenly again wide-awake and panicked Hermione yelled out.

And so four people lay uncomfortably squeezed together underneath the bed, with Hermione lying on top of Bellatrix, waiting for the terrified girl to finally fall asleep. Yes, this was going to be a long day.

"Ow, whose foot is that?"

"Your knee is in my arse, Ron!"

"Argh, which one of you teenage pillocks just copped a feel?"

"That would be Hermione."

"Oh... well, that's alright, then."

A few very uncomfortable minutes later, another disaster in the from of Luna Lovegood followed. The young Ravenclaw knelt by the bed and cocked her head sideways. "Are you hiding from nargles?" she asked.

"LUNA!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron, Harry and Bellatrix let out a simultaneous cry of frustration.

Eventually, Hermione did fall asleep, and, after carefully putting Hermione on the bed and tucking her in, the four of them snuck out of the room, a few bumps and bruises richer. Still, if it meant that Hermione wasn't suffering or in pain, Bellatrix decided she could handle a few bruises.


	10. Case closed

This chapter has, what can best be described as 'bawdy tavern songs'. Full versions can be found at Lord Gyric of Otershaghe's Bawdy Song Book, which is a great collection of gathered songs from all kinds of places. One of the songs has been edited to be lesbian-themed.

* * *

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 10: Case closed_

Once again, Bellatrix found herself staring at the front door of Andromeda's house. And once again, she was admiring the wonderful paintjob on the door's surface and the quality of the knocker.

Merlin, what was wrong with her?! Why was she so afraid to face her own sister?! _Again!_ Hell, she knew she had to tell her family about Hermione. It was only a matter of time before they'd find out anyway and there was no real reason not to tell them. She had elected to tell Andromeda first, but once again found herself having cold feet. Sweet Merlin, why was she so worried? Her family all knew she was a lesbian, so that couldn't be it.

After taking a deep breath, Bellatrix grabbed hold of the knocker and gave it a good banging. '_Time to face the music, bite the wand and stop being a bloody schoolgirl, Bella!' _she admonished herself_._ Really, it couldn't be that bad, now could it?

"Bella!" smiled Andy as she opened the door and found her older sister standing on the welcome mat. She was quickly let in, offered a cup of tea and engaged in some small-talk, but, honestly, Bellatrix couldn't really get excited about 'the price of milk these days'. After taking a sip from her tea, Bellatrix let out a sigh.

"Is something wrong, Bella?" Andy asked with some concern. "You're being so quiet."

Bellatrix pursed her lips and put down her cup. Better to get it over with. "Andy," she started. "Look, I'll just come out and say it. Andy, I've fallen for someone. I..." she chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "I'm in love."

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

'_Say something, Andy. Please just say something,'_ Bellatrix bit her lip.

Her sister just looked at her, as if she was trying to decide if Bellatrix was joking or not, but soon enough her lips curled up and formed a smile brighter than a thousand suns. "Finally," she whispered. "FINALLY!"

Bellatrix suddenly found herself being glomped by her little sister, being very happy that she had put down her cup of tea beforehand.

"Merlin, I'm so happy for you!" Andy broke the hug, took her hands and looked her in the eye. "Alright, alright, how long have you known her? Where did you meet? Do I know her? Is she pretty? What's her name? Can I meet her? Have you gone on a date? Where did you go on a date? Did you kiss her? Does she love you back?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment. "A couple of weeks, at work, no, very pretty, Hermione, not at the moment, yes, Leaky Cauldron, yes and definitely yes."

"Hermione," said Andy, letting the name roll over the tongue. "Such a pretty name. Come on, I want to hear details, lady! Everything upon everything, and I do mean everything. Leave nothing out!"

Bellatrix nodded. "First... there's something you must know about her."

"What?" Andy spoke with a serious edge. "Oh, here's where you tell me she's a one-legged blind midget with a mullet, right?"

The dark witch blinked once. Twice. "How did you arrive at that leap of logic?"

"Who can tell?" Andy laughed. "Come on. Share."

"Alright, first of all, she's definitely not a midget with a mullet. But... this is... something you might be a little angry about," Bellatrix said. Truth be told, when they were younger, Bellatrix had given Andromeda nothing less than hell over Ted. Like Bellatrix, Andromeda had no intention of marrying the husband their father had picked out for her, but unlike Bellatrix, Andromeda fled from her family because she had already met someone she loved. At the time, Bellatrix had done her best to support her little sister and to help her find a place to live; she'd gone through all of it before, after all. Bellatrix had even gotten Andromeda her first job as a receptionist for a law enforcement post in Diagon Alley so she could support herself.

Ted, however, had been a different matter alltogether. Bellatrix never considered Ted to be good enough for Andy and had made no effort to hide this. Old prejudice died hard, after all, and the truth of the matter was that, despite all the obvious good things he had done for Andy, despite the obvious love and devotion he had for her, Bellatrix could never consider him good enough for Andy purely and alone for being Muggle-born. Though the dark witch's opinion Ted had slowly but surely changed over time, Andy had been less than happy with Bellatrix's constant belligerence towards Ted at the time.

"Try me," Andy challenged.

"Hermione is..." Bellatrix sighed for a moment. "She's Muggle-born."

Andy remained silent for a moment, but then threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, the irony! The irony! Why would I be angry about that, Bella?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Well, you know... you and Ted..."

"That was over twenty years ago, you silly billy!" Andy laughed and shook her sister by the shoulder. "If anything, letting a Muggle-born into your heart shows how much you've changed since then. Now, no more stalling. I want to know everything about this Hermione."

And so Bellatrix obliged. She told her sister almost everything that had happened: the murder at Hogwarts, first meeting Hermione, putting the clues together, that crazy yet wonderful night they spent together, solving the crime and Hermione being admitted to St. Mungo. Of course, she had to omit plenty of details for the sake of privacy and professionalism, but she told what she could. Andy listened to it all intently and was full of sympathy for Bellatrix's young lover. Still, there was room for a barb.

"Hm," Andy grinned slightly. "Addicted to insoma and involved in a man's death. And how was Ted not good enough for me again?"

"I know, I know," Bellatrix rubbed her temples.

"Heh," Andy chuckled. "Next thing you'll tell me that she's a Gryffindor too."

Bellatrix coughed. "Welllll..."

Andy blinked. "Oh, you've gone completely off your rocker now, Bella!"

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Wait, you're okay with her being decades younger than I am and being addicted to an addictive substance, but you draw the line at her being a Gryffindor?"

"Slytherins should have some standards, Bella," Andy raised her chin in an imperious Black fashion, but the twinkle in her eyes told another story.

Bellatrix settled herself on the sofa for a moment. "But Hermione, Andy... I want this. More than anything, I want this to work."

"Don't you dare mess this up or I'll personally feed you to the nearest dragon!" Andy narrowed her eyes. "This is your big chance, so grab it with both hands and... OH! We are leaving someone out!"

Without giving Bellatrix a chance to protect, Andy rushed to the fireplace, tossed green powder into the fire, yelled 'Malfoy manor', jumped inside and, less than ten seconds later, came rushing out of the fireplace again while dragging a rather befuddled looking Narcissa by the arm while the blonde witch had her hairbrush was still in hand. Certainly, Andy worked fast.

"Andy, what... why did you drag me here? What's going on?!" Cissy demanded.

"BELLA'S IN LOVE!"

"What?!" Narcissa blinked. "Since when?!"

"Bella's in love with a nineteen year old Muggle-born girl who's in Gryffindor!"

"UH?!"

Bellatrix sighed heavily. So much for breaking the news carefully to their youngest and more-than-a-little-prejudiced sister.

"Come on!" Andy grabbed Bella's wrist with her free hand and dragged both her sisters along. "We must celebrate! The Black Sisters are going to paint the town red."

And paint the town red they did. Memories had gotten a little hazy after they hit the first pub. In fact there was quite a large gap in her memory, leading from the moment they had entered the door of the pub, to what Bellatrix concluded could be the next morning.

The dark witch had woken up from the sound of a groan. Just as she was wondering where it had come from, she realized that it was, in fact, her own. Immediately, her head felt like it had been split open by a heavy battle-axe, her tongue felt like an old leather bludger while her dry throat screamed in agony. Where on Earth was she?

After carefully opening her eyes to a squint, she found herself lying on a rug in front of the fireplace in Andy's living room. How she got there, she had absolutely no idea.

There were snippets of memories from last night. Most prominent were a drinking contest between Andy and a goblin, Narcissa dancing on a table at some point, thankfully fully clothed and... oh Merlin, the songs... not the bawdy songs the three of them had been regaling the other pubgoers with when they had gotten so terribly drunk all inhibitions were gone. To her everlasting disgrace, the lyrics were etched in her mind.

"Moose, Moose, I want a moose  
I've never had anything quite like a moose  
I've had lots of others, my life has been loose  
But I've never had anything quite like a moose

Now gorilla are fine for a Saturday night  
But lions and tigers they put up a fight  
And its just not the same when you slam their caboose  
Like the feeling you get when you hump on a moose."

Oh, Merlin. Why... _WHY_?! Where did Narcissa even learn that deplorably raunchy song? Of all the Black sisters, it had always been Narcissa whom was considered to be the most prim and proper. How wrong they were.

Bellatrix found it hard to move so she just gave up and let out another groan. The rug was comfortable enough right now. From the corner of her eye, she could see Andy lying face down on the sofa, her face mushed into one of the cushions. Narcissa in the meantime, had rather uncomfortably folded herself onto a lazy chair with her legs sticking out over the handle. Both seemed fast asleep. More memories of songs came to mind. More horrible, horrible songs.

"Four and twenty virgins  
Came down from Inverness,  
And when the ball was over  
There were four and twenty less."

Bellatrix tried to push herself up, but alcohol induced vertigo took its toll. The dark witch decided she was far more comfortable just lying on the floor. It was then that Bellatrix had remembered her solo effort. It was a song she had been taught by a police constable from Liverpool she had met during a national law enforcement ball some some years ago, after getting very comfortable with her in one of the broom closets after a few drinks and some excessive flirting.

"If all the young ladies were birds in their nests,  
I'd be an egg and lie under their breasts.

If lassies were wine glasses, and filled with rum,  
A rub round the lips would make them all hum.

If all them young lassies were kittens with fur,  
I'd give all a good reason to purr.

I wish all the ladies were little white flowers,  
And I'd a bee and suck them for hours.

I wish all young lasses were like wine in a glass,  
Then I'd get so drunk, I'd fall on my arse."

Another wave of embarrassment hit her after the memories of that lesbian themed tavern song returned to her mind, complete with appreciative applaud and... oh, Merlin. A stage-drive. She'd done a _stage-dive_! The dark witch truly hoped nobody she knew had seen it. Seriously, what would her mother have said if she had seen her behaving like that?

It was then that the front door opened and a far too cheerful Ted Tonks entered the front door to his house, having just returned from the nightshift of whatever job he was working these days. "Morning, darling," he called out, way too loud. "Just got back from... blimey, what happened to you lot?!"

"NotsoloudTed," Bellatrix groaned as the headache intensified with every word spoken.

"Bella's in love!" shouted Andy from the couch before falling asleep again, letting out a loud yet feminine snore.

"Yay me..." groaned Bellatrix before smooshing her cheek into the rug.

"Right, uhm," said Ted. "I suppose I should leave you alone then."

"Just let us wallow in our misery," Cissy called from her chair.

To add insult to injury, the ever so thoughtful Ted closed the door just a little too loudly for their sensibilities.

"Oh, Merlin..." Bellatrix moaned. "What would mother say?"

"She'd express disappointment, rage, sorrow... and then would ask for the details," Cissy replied. "In that order."

In fact, she could almost hear her mother stern voice at that very moment. '_Bellatrix Druella Black!'_ her mother would have said. '_How dare you stain your honor by lowering yourself to the depths of depravity. Most unbecoming of a young lady of your position! You are acting like a mudblood!'_

Bellatrix snorted. As if Hermione would ever sing a raunchy lesbian themed tavern song and follow it up with a stage-dive. Although she had to admit that was a rather sexy mental image.

"Oooooh, I'm never drinking again," Bellatrix groaned.

"Liar."

* * *

During the fourth week of her treatment, the worst was behind her and Hermione was mostly back to her old self. However, the past three weeks had been so exhausting she spent most of her days sleeping. During her daily visit, Bellatrix sat with her Hermione, holding her hand as she slept. Most days, she slept through visiting hours, and today was no different.

_Sleeping beauty_, Bellatrix thought as she watched Hermione. Though she slept most of the day, Hermione was eating properly again, color had returned to her cheeks and those lips... those rosy soft lips were so tempting. Feeling much like a teenager ready to steal her first kiss in during a secret liaison behind the broom-shed, Bellatrix leaned in for a brush of lips while stroking Hermione's hair. Her lips felt and tasted as wonderfully and her hair was just as soft as she remembered it.

"What did you do to me, hm?" Bellatrix whispered to the girl. "What kind of spell have you cast on me, Hermione Granger?"

In her life, Bellatrix had been with many women in her life but had been limited to short, passionate encounters. She had never found that one special person. Truth be told, she had given up on that many years ago and settled for fun yet meaningless sexual encounters, even thought she secretly yearned for more. Then, all of a sudden, Hermione Granger came along. And Bellatrix never wanted to let her go.

Bellatrix continued to stroke her young lover's impossibly soft hair. However, when she tried to withdraw, she noticed her fingers had been caught in Hermione's bushy brown hair. After a month without even a minute amount of hair-care, Hermione's long wavy brown hair was full of tangles. Bellatrix did her best to try to free her fingers without waking Hermione, but never stood a chance.

"Ow, ow," Hermione grimaced as her eyes fluttered open just as Bellatrix freed her hand. Trying her best to look innocent, Bellatrix smiled at the young witch. "Hi," Hermione whispered right before letting out a yawn. The girl was happy to see her, that much was obvious.

"Hi yourself," Bellatrix smirked. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I've felt in a long time," said Hermione. "Just very, very tired."

"You're almost through, pet," said Bellatrix. "I told you you were strong."

"I'd almost forgotten what sleep feels like," Hermione replied. "Sleep is so nice. I could sleep forever."

Bellatrix smiled at her. "Silly girl."

"You," Hermione smiled weakly. "You didn't have to do this, you know?"

"Do what?"

"Be there for me," said Hermione.

"Of course I have to," said Bellatrix. "I don't know much about all this relationship stuff, but I'm not entirely clueless."

"Do we have one?"

"Do we have what?"

"A relationship, of course!"

"After all this, we'd bloody well better have," Bellatrix and Hermione laughed together for a moment.

"Hmmmm, so sleepy..." Hermione whispered, her eyelids heavy.

Just then, there was a knock on the door; Miriam Strout entered the room. "Ah, miss Granger, you are awake. That's good, there's visitors for you."

The dark witch half expected more friends from Hogwarts, but instead two people entered whom she had never seen before. However, Hermione, certainly had.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione tried to sit up in bed, but was too exhausted to do so. She got about halfway up before falling down to the bed again.

_Uh-oh_, Bellatrix gulped as the worried parents rushed to their child, stepping away to make room for them. However, having the folks in the room meant she would be walking on eggshells.

By now, most people in their immediate circle knew that Bellatrix and Hermione were 'an item', as it were. And reactions had certainly been mixed. Potter had accepted it without question, while the Weasel-boy had needed some prodding and Andromeda had been utterly ecstatic about it. However, the Malfoy front was less happy about the whole thing. Though Cissy had been quietly encouraging her, Lucius was apparently considering banning her from their manor. She had expected the relationship with her favorite nephew Draco to take a bit of a dent, but as it turned out, Draco was rather amused by the whole development. The lad had sheepishly told her it was probably not a good idea to keep calling Hermione Muddy the Mudblood from then on. Something Bellatrix confirmed in a friendly but firm fashion.

Then there was the matter of Hermione's parents. Apparently, same-sex relationships were somewhat of an issue in the Muggle world, and the fact that Bellatrix was quite a bit older than Hermione wouldn't help either. Hermione was not ashamed of anything, but would rather break the news to her parents in a well-prepared and diplomatic manner, preferably on familiar ground.

Though the cheeky Bellatrix was half-tempted to out them then and there, this was hardly an ideal situation and Hermione certainly wouldn't thank her for it. Instead, she decided to creep out of the door without being noticed while Hermione's parents were fussing over her.

"Excuse me, are you a friend of our daughter?"

_Bollocks, I've been spotted_. The dark witch turned around, wishing she had taken some more this morning to comb her rebellious curly hair. It was Hermione's mother who asked the question, while sitting next to the bed.

"_Oh hi, I'm Bellatrix and I've been shagging your daughter!"_ was the first response which came to her mind as she felt like the proverbial log on the train-track. Thankfully, Hermione answered for her. "This is Bellatrix Black, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's been visiting me almost every day."

"Thank you for looking after her," spoke Hermione's father. "We've only just found out that she had been admitted to the hospital."

This was a cue for Bellatrix to sigh and facepalm. "Balls," Bellatrix cursed. "Of course the idiot clerks of the Department never informed you, they always forget about Muggle relatives. And nobody at Hogwarts bothered either, I suppose. Absolute morons, they can't do anything right!" She'd have to go and yell at those pillocks tomorrow.

The dark witch could see she had made faux-pas as both parents seemed shocked at her outburst. "Hm, sorry," Bellatrix muttered under her breath. "Incompetence upsets me."

Bellatrix gave Hermione some time to catch up with her parents, treating the smiling girl to a surreptitious wink before leaving the room. Being the professional whom she was, she met up with the parents, whom she learned were Jack and Emma Granger, after visiting hours to inform them what had happened. Strout was kind enough to let her use one of the hospital's consultation rooms. To her surprise, Bellatrix found that talking to worried Muggle-parents was much like talking to worried wizard-parents. She'd expected Jack and Emma to be colder towards Hermione, thinking back to Hermione's story about having to navigate Muggle-london on her own as a seven-year old, looking for food. However, they were anything but cold.

Bellatrix explained as much as she could; the supposed murder that wasn't a murder, the addiction, the eventual solving of the crime in question. Of course, she had to omit some details, including those of her budding relationship with their daughter. At the end of it, the parents were disturbed, but grateful.

"Don't take this the wrong way," said Jack Granger. "But I'm glad that the man who poisoned our little girl is dead."

"His death is not a great loss to the wizarding world," Bellatrix shook her head.

"I'm just so shocked that Hermione could be driven to taking a narcotic," said Emma.

"It happens to the best of people," Bellatrix replied. Diplomacy wasn't her strong suit, but she had let the parents do most of the talking.

"I'm just happy that there's so many people who care for Hermione and look out for her," said Emma as she looked at her husband.

_Lady, you have no idea_, Bellatrix bit down her comment. Hermione would tell them when they were good and ready. Hermione's parents thanked her warmly and left. She had found them surprisingly agreeable for Muggles. Perhaps that was a good since, of course, she'd be going to seeing plenty of them in the future.

It was actually quite a wonderful thing that Hermione's parents were so caring. Memories came flowing back of her own parents, from the days of her early childhood. All the three Black sisters had been utterly spoiled rotten, of course. In particular, she remembered a day at the beach. She must have been eight years old at the time. Young Bellatrix, Andy and Cissy, aged five and three perspectively, had already put on their bathing suits at home and, after a quick use of a portkey at the Black mansion, they arrived at their little used vacation villa in the South of France which had a gift from their mother's father after her parents' wedding.

They were ready and eager for a day at the beach. After their mother had applied a charm to their skin to prevent sunburn, her father had taken her aside. Cygnus Black had been a stern man, very set in his ways, but also a loving father to his three daughters. In truth, Bellatrix had been quite impatient to get to the water and her father had to hold her by the arm more than once.

"_Bellatrix," her father had said after bending down on one knee and gently putting his hands on her shoulders. "Today I want to teach you the importance of duty. Do you understand?"_

_Bellatrix nodded in response._

"_I'm afraid you can't go into the water just yet."_

_Bellatrix's face immediately transformed into a heavy pout. "But father," Bellatrix tried. "I want to go swimming! I'm finally old enough to swim in the sea. I waited for months." _

"_Now, Bellatrix," her father spoke softly, but sternly. "You have to realize that, sometimes, the needs of your family are more important than what you want for yourself. Do you understand this?"_

_Bellatrix adopted the Pout To End All Pouts and looked at her feet. "I think so."_

"_You are the eldest," said her father. "And thus it falls upon you to be responsible. It is your task, now and forever, to watch over and take care of your little sisters."_

_Bellatrix nodded in response. "Yes, father."_

"_Remember that we Blacks are special," said her father. "We are special even among wizards. We are the most pure, the most noble and the most powerful. But we still must protect our own. Do you understand, Bellatrix?"_

"_Yes, father," Bellatrix replied. "I am a Black. And Blacks can do anything!"_

"_Good girl," replied her father. "Now, how about a hug and a kiss from my little warrior, hm?"_

Bellatrix did just that, a hug and a peck to the cheek. Then, thought staying nearby at a reasonable distance, her parents left them to play. While her sisters were having fun, Bellatrix stood vigil. Narcissa was making forms in the sand with a toy mold, while Andromeda was merrily collecting seashells. Whenever one of them got too close to the water, Bellatrix sprung to action and shoo'ed them back to land. When her parents returned, a prideful father relieved her of duty and took them all for icecream. The rest of the day the girls had free reign to play around in the sand and Bellatrix had finally gotten her chance to go for a swim in the sea. Her cousin Sirius had just been born, and Bellatrix remembered wishing he'd hurry along with growing up so that the three of them could have another playmate at the beach. They were all so innocent at the time, but it was simply nice to think that she had experienced what it was like to have a loving family, even if it didn't last.

Hermione still had hers. Bellatrix had to admit just a touch of jealousy in that regard. Still, she supposed it was nice to have met her in-laws at least.

Before leaving, she wanted to steal one look at Hermione through the window of the door to her room. While a nurse was checking up on her vitals, Hermione was once again sleeping peacefully.

Sleeping beauty indeed.

* * *

Sitting at her desk, she had just written up a report about the latest incident. The last month had been rather quiet for Magical Homicides and whenever there were no murders, the group was tasked to help out other Departments with their cases. Bellatrix had still been working on finding Mittens, however, as he had proven to be surprisingly elusive. However, now that that damnable kneazle had been found and all the forms had been filled out, Bellatrix was done with work.

She signed the last form with a flourish of her quill, leaned back in her chair and laid her boots on the table. "Ah, done! A full month of vacation starts right now."

"I think that's the first vacation you've taken ever," said Jensen as he leaned against her desk while eating an apple.

Bombur, the bombastic old wizard, was the first to speak up. "I do believe that today is the day miss Granger will be released from St. Mungo's."

"I do believe you're right," Bellatrix laughed.

"Hah!" chuckled Jimmy Richards. "I knew it!"

"Yes, Jimmy," Bellatrix crossed her arms. "You'd think the big calendar on my desk with the big red circle around today's date would be a bit of a clue. Then again, if you had spotted that, people might start mistaking you for an actual detective."

"Through my powers of Divination, I can see serious amounts of shagging in your near future," Petunia grinned, while Richards made kissy-face noises.

The dark witch rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I enjoy your company so much or I'd have crucio'd the hell out of you lot already."

"Class, please! Some class!" said Bombur. Right become belching.

Bellatrix shot her friends one last two-fingered salute before leaving for her holidays. She had arranged for a carriage to take her to St. Mungo's; after all what Hermione had gone through, the least she could do was to make sure she'd travel in style.

No more pain, no more hallucinations, no more constant sleep. Exactly one month after being checked in, she was due for release. Thankfully, this addiction would not leave a stain on Hermione's considerable academic achievements. All the grades she had gotten were still valid as the potion only affected her sleep cycle; all her achievements were still her own. She was certain Hermione had been gratified to hear that.

Her treatment wasn't over yet, however. Hermione still needed to build up a regular sleeping pattern again with the help of sleeping draughts for the foreseeable future.

Because Hermione needed rest more than anything, it was agreed upon that she could hand in her thesis at the start of the next year. Thankfully, she had dropped the idea of doing the five separate papers for a still insane, but a slightly more healthy two. Though Hermione was somewhat saddened that she wouldn't graduate with the rest of her class, the young witch realized that she was lucky not to be expelled. Bellatrix had offered her to let Hermione stay at her apartment for as long as she liked and the young witch had happily accepted. To Bellatrix, it was certainly better than having her stay at the Burrow; poor Hermione would never find any rest when constantly surrounded by Weasleys, after all.

Once the carriage stopped, she could already see Hermione waiting for her at the entrance of the hospital. She was looking much better; color had returned to her cheeks. She looked positively radiant in her yellow dress.

"Pet," Bellatrix whispered as the two witches embraced. "You look so much better."

"I feel much better," said Hermione.

"What's this?" asked Bellatrix when she noticed Hermione was holding a cat carrier.

"This is Crookshanks," Hermione replied. "Harry brought him over, along with all my other belongings I still had with Hogwarts. He'll be coming to live with us."

"Harry?" Bellatrix half-joked. "I'm not really liking that idea. The door to my bedroom is quite thin, after all. I'm planning to do all sort of delicious things with you in my... _our _bedroom. Delicious things that potentially have a high decibel count."

Hermione snorted. "No, I meant Crookshanks."

The dark witch bent over and reached her hand towards the cat carrier. Almost immediately, a hiss came from the carrier, followed up by a clawed paw slashing against the metal grate.

"Sorry," Hermione offered an apologetic smile. "Crookshanks needs to get used to new people."

"Right," Bellatrix frowned, not having counted on his fifth wheel which suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Considering the sheer amount of books you're bringing, I think I'll need to start looking for a bigger place to live pretty soon. And I'm actually going to have to clean now."

Both lovers stepped onto the carriage. The cat carrier was put on the opposite bench. Hermione's belongings from Hogwarts, mostly books contained in a Bottomless Suitcase, had been put in the back. "We'll just drop off your stuff and Crookshanks at my apartment and we'll head right to the Leaky Cauldron. Potter has organized a 'Glad you're well'-party for you. It's a follow-up to that 'Get well soon'-party, I understand. Only there'll be actual booze this time around."

Hermione shook her head before leaning against the dark witch. "That's so him. But I don't think I'm entitled to a party after all things I've put everybody through."

"Nonsense, pet," Bellatrix kissed the top of Hermione's head. "Besides, I've invited Draco."

Hermione's head snapped to one side. "You what?! Why?!"

"Hey, he's family," Bellatrix shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he'll behave."

"Bellatrix?"

"Hm, pet?"

"I don't remember much of what happened the past month, and perhaps for the best. But, I might have… said some things which I regret saying," Hermione said. "Done some things I regret doing."

"It's alright," Bellatrix shrugged.

"No, it's not alright," Hermione said. "I hurt you. I hurt my friends."

"I'm a grown woman, I can take it," said Bellatrix. "I blame the insoma, not you."

"My parents are still worried," said Hermione. "They want me to come home for a bit too. You don't mind, I hope."

"No," Bellatrix replied. "At least your parents care about you. Which is more than I can say about mine.

Hermione turned away to look out the windows. The carriage was plodding along, the Thestrals doing their job expertly. "I... I _need_ to explain them why I did what I did. Why it made sense at the time and why I now know it was wrong. I need them to know it will never happen again."

"I get that," Bellatrix replied. It was all part of the healing process.

Hermione turned to her with a smile. A smile that made the dark witch's insides flutter. "And I want to tell them about _us._ That's a bit more scary."

It was odd, really. Bellatrix found something she never expected to find again. All these years she had thrown herself on her work in an attempt to flee from her own loneliness. And yes, while her work was fulfilling and validated her, she had come to realize that she hadn't really lived at all for the past two decades. A lot of time lost to make up for.

She looked at the pretty young witch next to her. The dark witch had no idea if she and Hermione were meant to be. But by Merlin's beard, she was going to do her utmost to make it work.

Bellatrix and Hermione shared a brief look before the young witch flowed into her arms. It was a wonderful feeling, her soft body against hers. Hermione's arms locked around her shoulders while Bellatrix clutched onto her waist. Their lips met and their ever deepening kiss gave expression to the passion which had been building up during a month of waiting. The dark witch so enjoyed her Hermione's smell, touch... taste. Exquisite.

Best thing about it yet: Hermione was just as passionate about it as Bellatrix was.

"Hermione?" Bellatrix said after she and the young witch broke their kiss. "You make me want to be a better person."

"Hm, that's funny," Hermione grinned. "Because you make _me_ want to be a ruder person."

"Hah!" Bellatrix laughed. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"I suppose we'll have to meet somewhere in the middle."

Yeah, '_no idea if she and Hermione were meant to be?!_' Bugger that. They were meant to be. Bellatrix was certain of it.

* * *

And that's it, the conclusion of the first story-arc of Murder Most Horrid. There's two more to come. Considering the three parts of the story are successive and interconnected, I've decided not to post them as separate sequels, but to continue to post it all under this title. Murder Most Horrid will continue right here, next Saturday.

Thank you all for reading and I hope you will join me for the rest of the story. I hope you'll continue to enjoy.


	11. Domestic bliss

Hello everyone,

This chapter starts the next story-arc of Murder Most Horrid. A new case for Bella to solve and a chance to show some of Bella and Hermione's life together. That's where the promised fluff comes in. :)

Thank you all for your continued support and readership and I hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 11: Domestic bliss_

With the tell-tale pop of a person emerging from the floo network, Bellatrix arrived home after a long day of work. Eager to get rid of her boots, she kicked them off, collected them, and put them next to the fireplace. The dark witch let out a blissful sighed and enjoyed the feeling of the deep-pile carpet underneath her feet and between her toes.

With a flick of the wrist, Bellatrix tossed her curved wand into her trusty old glass, now on the mantlepiece. The paper was already lying on the wooden table next to the sofa, ready for her to read. Perfect! She quickly sat down on the sofa and simply enjoyed the feeling of being home.

"Pet?" Bellatrix called out. "Are you home?"

No answer. Hermione was obviously still at work. Odd. Usually Hermione got home before she did.

However, Crookshanks _was_ at home; the half-kneazle was sitting underneath the coffee-table, looking at her with that disdainful 'I just don't get what Hermione sees in you'-expression on his feline face.

"Yeah, fuck you too, Crookshanks," said Bellatrix. She had more important things to worry about than a cat's disapproval. Honestly, if it had been up to her, Crookshanks would have been dumped somewhere in the middle of London months ago.

Her second anniversary was fast approaching; she and Hermione had been together for almost two years. True, even after all this time it felt quite surreal to share her life with someone else, perhaps this was because she had been alone for so long. She glanced at the calendar; it would be a month or two still. The year 2000, it said in big letters at the very top of the calendar. It was supposedly a magical year. Bellatrix couldn't really agree with that; so far it seemed just like any other year before it. The only thing special about it, had been Andy's meticulously organized new year's party.

At the start of her relationship with Hermione, it quickly became obvious that Bellatrix' old apartment was just too small for them to live comfortably on the long term... and it had been obvious that the both of them would very much be interested in the long term. The both of them decided that, as soon as Hermione graduated proper from Hogwarts, they would start looking for a new place. Fortunately, Hermione had been headhunted by the Ministry straight out of school, and with the both of them having a proper job meant that they had more options.

That is not to say that finding a new home had been easy. Bellatrix preferred solitude while Hermione was still a city girl at heart who preferred a more social environment. They tried a couple of apartments, but never lived anywhere longer than a couple of months before they decided the place wasn't to their liking. The longest they lived somewhere was an apartment in Wizarding London, near Greenwich park, before settling on their current home. A home where they both definitely wanted to live out the rest of their days.

The house they finally decided was Rosewood cottage, an old farmhouse from the 1800s located in Cotswolds. It was secluded and far into the countryside, yet within walking distance of Mould-on-the-wold. The rolling hills and woods of Cotswold were a soothing sight to behold, much better than the view from her old apartment. Add lovely clean air to the mix, quite a difference from even the wizarding quarters in London.

The home itself was lovely. The living room was spacious, the kitchen and dining room well-fitted and, upstairs, their bedroom had enough room for her old beloved queen-sized bed and led onto a nice balcony to sit on in the evenings. Their furniture was a mixture of magic and Muggle, with all the lights in the house being of a magical nature. As farmhouses of that age tended to have, the ceiling of their living room had been lined with heavy wooden beams, adding to the aesthetic. The previous owners had left wallnut wood paneling in the hallway and neither of them had seen any reason to remove those. All it all, it was a wonderful place to live.

That is not to say that the first two months living there had been an absolute nightmare. When they bought it, the house had been deserted for almost a decade and, as such, it had taken them some time to actually make the house livable. The goblin contractors had done a wonderful job, but the problem was the budget: after some annoying setbacks, the money had simply run out and a lot of home improvement projects had been put on hold until the both of them had managed to save up more money. Unfortunately, saving up more money was going a lot slower than they hoped for.

There was still plenty left to do; the plumbing had its share of problems, the guestroom hadn't been finished, most rooms didn't have proper furnishing yet and though they had started to convert the granary which was built against the cottage into a library tower to house Hermione's massive collection of books, they only really had the budget to convert the ground floor. The planned second floor would have to wait.

Then there was the little fact that both Bellatrix and Hermione would be paying mortgage until ten years after their deaths. It was a good incentive to keep pestering Jensen for that ever elusive pay-rise.

It was then that she remembered that it was her turn to make dinner. Or rather, arrange dinner. With a sigh, she tossed the paper back on the table and reluctantly, very reluctantly, rose from the sofa.

Bellatrix never cooked; though Hermione liked to dabble once in a while, Bellatrix' long workdays had always meant that the dark witch existed on pub food and take-out for the last twenty years. That certainly hadn't changed, especially since Hermione had explicitly forbidden Bellatrix from using the Muggle kitchen ever again since Bellatrix' last experiment had resulted in a nasty and rather expensive gas explosion. Bellatrix scoffed as she remembered Hermione giving her a stern reprimand. '_If we had gotten a magical oven, like normal people, that explosion would never have happened in the first place_,' she thought bitterly. 'S_till, Hermione is rather cute when she's seriously? Cooking with gas?! What nonsense.'_

So, Bellatrix wrote her order on a piece of paper and took it to the window near their owlry. There, Horus, their proud eagle-owl, was already waiting for it. By now, Horus already knew how to find his way to every single take-out place in Mould-on-the-Wolt. As soon as the food was ready, it would be apparated right onto their dinner table.

All she had to do was wait, both for Hermione and for the food. The dark witch sat down on her comfy couch and just relaxed for a moment.

For the first time since ages, Bellatrix was thinking about her future again; and a certain brown-haired young witch played an essential role in every single scenario. Her life had changed so much, and for the better; Bellatrix had started to work more normal hours, stopped drinking alcohol alone and even had to admit that she had become somewhat more sociable. Her family had certainly noticed the difference and Andy was often a visitor to their home.

One thing that would probably never change was that unruly curly mop on top her head. She'd given up on ever getting her hair to cooperate. At least Hermione didn't seem to mind.

Not that there weren't bumps in the road, of course. One of the major conflicts she had had with Hermione had been about central heating of all things. It was a muggle invention which Hermione had insisted on being installed in their cottage. Bellatrix remembered the two getting into a big fight over it. Bellatrix had allowed Muggle inventions to a degree: Hermione had her Muggle-heritage, after all, and she understood the need to express one's heritage. But running pipes through the cottage and hanging giant metal eyesores from the walls while the cottage had a perfectly good fireplace had been a bridge too far for Bellatrix. It wasn't until Andromeda had advocated central heating as a gift from Merlin that Bellatrix reluctantly agreed to having it installed. Right now, she had to admit that it had been a good decision; the radiators and pipes might be absolute eyesores, but they certainly made the cottage nicely warm and comfortable on cold winter days.

So, with food ordered, her lovely home warm and the sofa soft and inviting, Bellatrix picked up the paper and finally started to relax.

It was a slow news day, but there was an editorial on Purity Front members attacking or hexing Muggle-borns in the street. This seemed to have become a more common occurrence over the past year and a cause of quite a bit of concern in the Department. According to the editorial, the Front was not doing enough to distance themselves from these attacks. Apparently, a spokesperson of the Front had stated that the Purity Front was not responsible for the behavior of their members and that the Front 'promotes peace and harmony for all pure-bloods'.

Bellatrix snorted at that; the Front were experts at rabble-rousing and it would only be a matter of time before an overzealous Front member would kill someone right in the street. The Front would probably even find a way to exploit it.

She didn't get further into the story, however. A very tired looking Hermione poofed into existence as she emerged from the fireplace.

"Ah, welcome home, pet," Bellatrix said as she put the paper to her side.

"Belle," Hermione offered her a loving smile. "You have no idea how good it is to see you. I have had _such_ a horrible day."

The young witch did indeed look rather stressed. Though Bellatrix and Hermione both worked at the Ministry, their workplaces were several levels apart. Both of them were professional enough not to bother each other outside of lunch hours. However, office gossip had reached her ear about some commotion at Hermione's workplace.

"C'mere, pet," she motioned; Hermione almost collapsed on top of her and, after a brief but loving brush of lips, the young witch turned around and leaned into Bellatrix. Immediately, the dark witch started to gently massage Hermione's shoulders. "Tell me all about it."

"A dragon escaped from the sanctuary in Wales," said Hermione while she closed her eyes and relaxed under Bellatrix's touch. "It was a complete disaster."

Hermione, as a rising star in the Ministry, currently had a prestigious apprenticeship at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Her job did put a lot of pressure on her young shoulders on a normal day, but a dragon escaping would have been something else.

"We captured it after two hours, but by then it had had plenty of time to rampage through the countryside, murdering whole flocks of sheep. The rest of the day was spent doing damage control. I had to draft a formal apology to the Prime Minister. That damn dragon was seen, pictures were taken and some of those pictures ended up on the internet. Oh, god, I hate the internet so much!"

"Right," said Bellatrix as she continued her massage. "So what's this internet thing then?"

"Well," Hermione sighed heavily. "It's got to do with computers..."

"Ooooohhhhh dear," Bellatrix chuckled, knowing that computers were still a hot-button issue for her beloved girlfriend.

"It's a whole bunch of computers networked together so Muggles can share information incredibly quickly. Those dragon pictures were spread to all four corners of the world in a manner of minutes. We had to involve the Department of Misinformation and Ministries of other nations. It became an international incident with me caught in the middle. Don't ask me how we got it done, but we did. And after all my hard work... my supervisor steps in and takes all the credit for himself."

"Aw," Bellatrix replied with sympathy. Hermione was still getting used to navigating the inner workings and office politics of the Ministry. But her girl was a quick learner and rarely made the same mistake twice: her supervisor wouldn't be able to bamboozle her ever again.

"But mark my words, this internet-thing is going to be problematic for the wizarding world if it keeps growing like it does."

"What kind of information do Muggles share on this internet thing, then?"

"From what I understand, it's mostly for pornography, Star Trek and cat pictures."

"Oh, I am intrigued all of a sudden."

Hermione groaned. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Maybe you could appease this 'internet' with pictures of Crookshanks..."

"I'm not putting Crookshanks on the internet!" Hermione interrupted. "Hm, let's switch up."

Bellatrix was only to eager to do so; the dark witch leaned into Hermione and let her nimble fingers gently rub her shoulders. Soon enough, Bellatrix found herself purring like a happy kitten. "How was your day, Belle?" Hermione asked.

"Hm," replied Bellatrix. "Not quite as harrowing as yours, but just as annoying. A missing person case turned into a murder investigation."

"Oh? What happened?" Hermione asked.

"Muggle police fished a kid from the Thames this morning. Turned out to be one of us so the Department secured the body in the deepest of secret. It was a young kid, Muggle-born, hufflepuff, graduated two years ago, had been working at the tavern in Hogsmeade. One day he just stopped showing up for work. He'd been missing for over six months. Bombur and I went up there to canvas Hogsmeade, talk to people, looking for clues, but… Nobody really knew him, he had no relatives, no girlfriend. There was no reason for him to disappear, no motives for his murder. The body had been in the water too long, so Barty couldn't draw any conclusions either. He might have even thrown himself into the Thames as far as we know. It's just one big blank."

"That's so sad," Hermione said. "I forget that your job can be so much more depressing than mine. At least you know who he is so he can get a proper funeral."

"Sometimes cases just… go cold and never get solved," Bellatrix sighed heavily while Hermione kept massaging.

"It's not your fault," said Hermione. Bellatrix smiled to herself; Hermione knew her well enough to realize that Bellatrix regarded a case going cold as a bitter personal failure.

"Isn't it? I'm supposed to solve these cases," Bellatrix said. "This one just goes into a drawer and will never see the light of day again. One local goblin knew him and he's agreed to talk to us. We'll be hearing him tomorrow at the office."

Before the conversation could continue its depressing direction, there was the sound of magical energy dispersing from the dining room. "Food's here," said Hermione as she stopped her massage and stepped off the couch.

"Awww, you're abandoning me for food?" Bellatrix-mocked whined as Hermione ignored her and rushed into the dining room.

"Hm, Chinese!" Hermione called back to the living room.

A smile still on her face, Bellatrix walked in after Hermione. Enjoying some Chinese food with Hermione would be just what they both needed.

* * *

There was something else Bellatrix thought Hermione needed. After a simple yet lovely dinner, the dark witch had dragged her young girlfriend upstairs where she was now lying face-down on their bed, stripped down to only wearing her jeans.

Hm, yes, jeans. One of the better Muggle inventions, Bellatrix found. Her girlfriend flaunted unwritten rules of dress-code of the Ministry by wearing these jeans to work. Considering she used to be a stickler for rules, even unwritten ones, Bellatrix would like to think that was her influence at play. As it was, the jeans fitted nice and tightly around Hermione's legs and showed off her bum quite nicely.

The dark witch tapped her girlfriend on the bum a couple of times, earning herself a giggle from Hermione.

"Hm," said Bellatrix while rubbing some scented rose oil on her hands. "Just relax."

"I already am," Hermione closed her eyes and smooshed her cheek into the pillow. She'd already tied her hair into a bun to keep it from getting in the way. Indeed, her girl was ready for her treat.

The dark witch straddled her beloved and as soon as her hands touched Hermione's skin, Bellatrix could already fell the girl melt underneath her. Soft hands slid from shoulderblades, along her spine and to the small of her back. The girl arched along with her movements, letting out a drawn-out sigh of relief.

Slowly, Bellatrix slid her hands up the side of her back again, gently kneading flesh as she did.

"Hm, Belle," whispered Hermione.

The dark witch lingered on Hermione's shoulders. There'd definitely been a lot of stress today, judging from the knots. Carefully kneading her shoulders caused Hermione to let out a sigh and shifted her head slightly to give Bellatrix a better grip. Her eyes still closed, the girl let out a blissfull groan.

Careful now. She didn't want to massage her girlfriend to sleep. A sharp pinch to the nape of her neck, and Hermione's following yelp confirmed that she was once again wide awake.

More rose oil was added to her hands and more kneading was done. The ball of her hands slid over welcoming skin while the tips of her fingers raked over her shoulder-blades. "Oh, Belle," Hermione all but moaned. "That feels fantastic."

"Hm," Bellatrix leaned down and softly whispered in her ear. Dark curls fell out of formation and tickled Hermione's cheek. "I know what girls like, pet. Trust me." The tiny whimper Hermione let out after the dark witch followed up her flirt with gentle blows of air was most arousing.

Hermione's breath quickened with every stroke. Every knead. Every touch. Bellatrix was getting rather hot and bothered herself, to be honest. Just as the dark witch was about to lean in to lead a trail off kisses from the small of Hermione's back to her neck, Hermione could take no more and sprung to action.

She shifted and rolled to her back, looking Bellatrix in the eye. To this day, the dark witch knew just how lucky she was to have someone like Hermione. Smart and beautiful, the girl lay before her in all her glory. Hers. All hers.

The girl folded her jean-clad legs out and wrapped them around Bellatrix's waist, forcing the dark witch to lower herself down upon her. "I need you," husked Hermione, her smile sultry, her eyes filled with lust while frantically tugging on Bellatrix's dress in an attempt to release her breasts.

Hermione today was a far cry from the blushing virgin she had met two years ago.

The dark witch chuckled to herself before the young witch claimed her prize. Bellatrix Black: gleeful corrupter the innocent since 1951. It was a self-appointed title she could very much live with.

Their lips met, their tongues wrestled for dominance while Bellatrix slyly slid her hand over trembling soft skin to find and undo the button in front of Hermione's jeans. Yet another thing to love about jeans: easy access to the goods.

Though sexy they may be, Hermione's jeans had definitely overstayed their welcome.

* * *

Bellatrix awoke to sheer bliss. She lay on her side, still in the slight haze of awakening to the lucid dream of being embraced tightly from behind by her beloved, her soft skin on hers, warm breath rhythmically brushing past her skin as Hermione lay sleeping. Sweet memories of the wonderful lovemaking earlier that night came drifting right back.

Having found alternative use for the rose oil, the bedsheets had gotten rather laden with spilled oil. In fact, she could still feel where Hermione had rubbed the oil on her skin. Hm, bliss.

The dark witch could lay here forever, enjoying her girlfriend's closeness and warmth. There was one problem, though: According to the clock, she was supposed to get up for work.

But she felt so comfortable being held by her girl. Bellatrix closed her eyes and willed the clock to stop ticking. The dark witch wanted to stay there forever, gently being held and feeling Hermione's loving warmth.

Of course, the universe did not obey Bellatrix's command and the self-time continuum kept moving forward even in the face of dire threats towards its continued existence.

Duty was calling.

Reluctantly, Bellatrix disentangled herself from Hermione's gentle embrace and slipped out of bed. She hissed slightly as her bare feet touched upon the cold linoleum that was on their bedroom floor. She swore quietly when one of her feet slid over a glob of oil which had landed on the floor. The linoleum, horrible Muggle stuff that it was, had been put there to cover up the wooden boards and the plan was to eventually replace it with proper carpeting. That was months ago, however; another one of the best plaid plans nipped in the bud by lack of budget.

Hermione suggested getting some cheap furniture from a Muggle place called IKEA to fill up the house a bit, but Bellatrix balked when she mentioned they'd have to assemble it themselves. Seriously, furniture you had to put together yourself?! Muggles were just weird, weird people.

After carefully opening their cheap IKEA dresser, she gathered the clothes she would wear today and was about to silently creep to the shower when she heard Hermione stir in bed. "Hmmmm, work?" Hermione groaned sleepily without opening her eyes.

"Didn't mean to wake you," said Bellatrix. The working day started a full hour earlier for Bellatrix, so she had hoped to let the young witch sleep in a bit longer. Like usual, however, her efforts had awakened her keen-eared girlfriend.

"'s alright," Hermione yawned, still with her eyes closed.

"Sleep, pet," Bellatrix gently kissed Hermione on the cheek.

"Enjoy your day," Hermione croaked the words and drifted off into sleep once again.

After a quick shower and an even quicker floo to the office, she would many times that day wish to be back in Hermione's warm embrace. Not in the least when she was faced with a rather odd goblin whom had come in to make a statement about the Hufflepuff boy whom had gone missing. It was truly a last ditch effort, but as the conversation continued, she was really starting to think she was wasting her time.

"Now, mister Jansen," Bellatrix rubbed her temples. Dinky, the house-elf stenographer, looked equally frustrated as he did his best to keep up with the goblin's fast talking nonsense. "If you would just get to the point..."

Jan Jansen, goblin local to Hogsmeade, continued unabated. "Well, if you take in consideration the average Joe Troll, you got yourself a recipe for a lousy day. I mean, sure, you can placate a troll with a turnip sandwich, but would you really want to give up your dinner in the process? I mean, giving up your hard-earned turnip to an ungrateful troll? I'd rather risk death myself, but that's just me. Reminds of the time my aunty Gladys had an aneurism so bad it actually caused an earthquake that was way off the Richter scale. That's the UK got separated from the rest of Europe, you see?"

"Mister Jansen..."

"Ah, yes, Martin, the Hufflepuff boy. He often talked to my nephew Wilbur Jansen. Now, we all think he's a bit crazy ever since he ran around naked in the snow last winter, screaming about having a vision about massive sentient alien machines hiding in darkspace who will return every 50.000 years to destroy all life in the galaxy. Nobody heeded his warnings and someone even threw a bucket of water over him..."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes while Dinky, the house-elf whom always transcribed interrogations, looked at her questioningly. No doubt the elf wanted to know if this nonsense was worth recording. The dark witch shot Dinky a dirty look at pressured her into continuing; if she had to suffer, she wouldn't be suffering alone.

"Oh, what does all of that even mean?! Stop with the hogwash, mister Jansen. We're looking for information about Martin, so _talk about Martin_!"

"You'll be laughing on the other side of your face when the machine-gods melt you down and turn you into a giant space-cuttlefish, which my uncle claims will be around two hundred years from now. Hm, we'll both be dead by then, I guess we don't have to worry about it. Ah, forget I said anything, they'll be the future generation's problem."

"Oh, how I wish I could forget about everything you said," Bellatrix muttered under her breath.

"Now, about Martin, he often talked to my uncle Wilbur, loved his stories, poor thing. If there's anything us Jansens do well, it's telling stories. And they're all true, I swear. Like the time my auntie Roberta averted an invasion by the merpeople. Some ten years ago, there were some issues with overfishing the lake, which wasn't a problem in itself other than that some of the fishermen had taken up fishing with sticks of dynamite at the end of their fishing poles. The Merpeople didn't like having their houses blown up, so they came up to Hogsmeade to seek a diplomatic solution. Some mothers were insulted and it became a full-on brawl. Fearing the fall of Hogsmeade, my auntie lined up all the thestrals in town and put a laxativo-potion in their watering trough. The resulting release of gasses drove the merpeople back into the lake and restored the peace. The problem with the dynamite fishing solved itself when old man Gumby decided to smoke his old tobacco pipe at the dynamite shed."

"Flatulent thestrals," Bellatrix sighed heavily while Dinky looked positively ready to burst into tears. "How the hell did we get yo the topic of flatulent thestrals?"

"They might be invisible, but you can sure smell them!"

"Merlin, why am I even bothering?"

"Don't ask me, you're the one leading this conversation, Trixie," Jan Jansen shrugged.

Immediately, her jaw squared as her teeth ground together. "Trixie?" she uttered dangerously. "TRIXIE?! MY NAME IS _NOT_ TRIXIE!"

"Oh, sorry, did I call you Trixie? I'm sorry I called you Trixie. I won't call you Trixie anymore, Trixie. Oh, dear, I just said it again, didn't I? Sorry about that, Trixie."

Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. "Jansen, you are a horrible little man. WHAT ARE YOU?!"

"I'm, uh, a horrible little man, miss Black," the goblin shrugged. "But don't knock it. I might be brain-damaged, but at least I'm not brain-damaged. Uh, no, wait, that's wrong. Okay, let me start over and start from the very beginning. Right after I was born..."

"Aaah!" Bellatrix exclaimed. She just couldn't take it anymore. The dark witch stormed from the interrogation room back into the office and slammed the door shut behind her. "Bombur, maybe you can make sense of all the bollocks that comes out of this goblin, because I sure can't!"

While Bellatrix plopped down behind her desk, the elderly wizard Bombur headed to the interrogation room to take over. The dark witch rubbed her temples as she leaned back in her chair. _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Hermione naked, draped over me while we're lying on a rug in front of the fireplace in a finished gorgeous house and Crookshanks is running around with a lit stick of dynamite stuck up his arse. Yes, that'll do._

"Trouble, Bells?" Petunia asked, just as pieces of singed orange fur wafted through Bellatrix's fantasy.

Bellatrix sighed heavily. "This case is hopeless, Petunia. I was hoping this Jan Jansen would have some kind of lead for us. He's our last chance..."

"Can't win them all," Petunia tried to offer a smile.

Bellatrix shook her head. "I'm a sore loser, 'Tunia."

Just then, a small house-elf came into the room leading a magical cart stacked to the brim with casefiles. "DCI Black," the house-elf saluted. "These are the files you asked for."

"I see that. Thank you," Bellatrix nodded.

As Bellatrix started to move the files from the cart to her desk, Petunia's eyes almost burst out of their sockets. "Well, there goes your weekend. What are those for?"

"These are all the missing persons casefiles from last year," Bellatrix said. "I'm going to see if I can find a connection."

"Bells, you're crazy!"

"Maybe," said Bellatrix. "But I'm not giving up. Like I said, I'm sore loser."

Just then, Bombur came storming out of the interrogation room, quaking with rage so much that his beard shook. "Argh! That horrible, horrible gnome!"

"He's a goblin, Bombur," Bellatrix spoke matter-of-factly.

"He's a bleedin' menace, that's what he is!" Bombur yelled back. "Jimmy! You're the resident bullshitter! You try!"

As the plucky yank headed into the interrogation room, the dark witch got to work. Bellatrix started by opening the Hufflepuff boy's file, writing down the particulars in her notepad in hopes of finding a connection. Inside the casefile was a photograph of the boy, Martin, in his final year. He looked reasonably happy, full of hopes and dreams. "What happened to you, Martin?" Bellatrix whispered to herself before closing the file folder. "How'd you go from living in Hogsmeade to floating dead in the Thames?"

And so Bellatrix started digging through the missing persons files. After eliminating about half of them because the person in question had either been found or was obviously not related to the Hufflepuff boy case, she was left with twelve files. It didn't take her long to discover a disturbing trend; all of these twelve missing persons were young Muggle-borns whom had graduated from Hogwarts in recent years and had little or no family to speak of. All of them had suddenly and inexplicably disappeared without a trace; it was as if they had been just plucked from their lives, just like the Hufflepuff boy Martin had been. This was beyond coincidence.

She'd have to scour the files again to look for a clue. Any clue. If these cases were all related, there might be something to connect them all. Maybe even a slip-up that could further her investigation. With her trusty notepad in hand, she opened the first file, studying the particulars.

Bellatrix had gotten to the third file when two magically enchanted paper airplanes zoomed into the office, did a barrel-roll followed up by a loop-de-loop and ended up in both their inboxes, unfolding themselves into the memo intended for them. Bellatrix wasn't interested in memos, however, and she still had quite a backlog to read. The files were what was interesting at the moment.

While Bellatrix took a moment rub her temples, Petunia picked up her memo and read it. "Uhm, Bells? It says here I'm taking over your caseload."

"What?" Bellatrix blinked, grabbed her own memo and quickly read it. Once the magnitude of the message on it hit home, she rose from her chair and slammed both of her fists on the desk. "WHAT THE FU..."


	12. Diagon Vice

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 12: Diagon Vice_

Bellatrix Black stomped through the halls of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, snarling at everyone who dared to get in her way.

Or got near her.

Or just looked at her.

It wasn't long until people in the hallways started giving her a wide berth.

The memo had told her to meet Jensen in a conference lounge one floor up on the executive level, and she was getting angrier with every step. Jensen himself had pulled her from not only the Hufflepuff boy case but all other cases as well. He might be her boss, but that was hardly a deterrent for Bellatrix; he'd better have a damn good explanation for this.

When she arrived at the lounge, she angrily threw open the doors and focused on Jensen, whom she rushed to immediately upon entering. "Jensen!" she shouted while she thrust the memo into his chest. "Explain this to me! NOW! And it had better be good!"

Jensen said nothing. Instead, he read the memo. His face darkening, he turn to his left side. "Really?" he grunted. "Really?! You sent a memo in my name to one of my people, lure her here under false pretenses and relieving her of her caseload before she even agreed to anything! You really are a piece of fucking work!"

It was then that she noticed that Jensen was not alone. There were two people with him; one was Nymphadora, her niece, the other was Pius Thicknesse, the recently installed head of the Department. Nymphadora was looking to be her usual prickle self, jet-black hair this time around, while Pius was snappily dressed and made a dapper appearance, stroking his short beard ever so often. Meanwhile, Jensen seemed to be quite upset, though obviously not at her.

Immediately it became apparent that there was definitely something off here. People like Pius were administrators and never ever got involved with the dealings of individual officers. And considering the only other two persons here were her boss and a trusted family member, there was a recipe for an abnormal situation.

"Hi, aunty," Nymphadora raised her hand in a halfhearted wave. "Quite an entrance."

"Dora," Bellatrix nodded. Andy's daughter Nymphadora, whom had officially become an auror last year, was a striking figure. Her contact with Nymphadora these days was limited to having lunch with her from time to time, but she quite liked the plucky girl.

"Alright!" Bellatrix threw up her arms. "I get it. Who'd I piss off this time?! I swear, that reported I hexed last month had it coming! And I haven't threatened a suspect in weeks!"

"Ah, chief inspector Black," Pius nodded and put on his pleasant face. "I have heard quite a lot about you. I'm afraid it was me who freed you of your obligations. I pro-actively asked for your caseload to be reassigned without waiting for the outcome of this meeting. Obviously this has caused you some distress, for which I apologize."

Bellatrix frowned for a moment. The guy was a politician, alright. "Jensen?" Bellatrix looked at her boss. "What is this about?"

Pius waved his wand and closed the door, sealing it with a silent and impenetrable forcefield. Nymphadora told her that the room had been search for magical eavesdroppers as the four of them sat down at the conference table and let Pius explain just while Bellatrix was here.

In fact, Pius had to repeat himself. His request was so ludicrously beyond belief that the dark witch was certain he'd been pulling her leg.

"You want me to go undercover? _Me_?!" Bellatrix cocked her head sideways. "You lot are all mental!"

Jensen snorted. "That's I was told him."

Pius, on the other hand, said nothing, apparently content with letting Bellatrix rant for a bit. And rant she did.

"What would be the point? Everybody knows I'm a cop. I've been in the papers several times this year alone!"

"Uhm, yes," Pius nodded. "But, that actually will work in your favor. We want you..."

"... Pius has this hare-brained scheme about having you infiltrate the Purity Front," Jensen finished while staring daggers at Pius.

"Really, Adam," Pius sighed. "There is no need for animosity between us. In the end, it will be miss Black's choice and not ours."

"Will it really?" Jensen pressed. "I don't appreciate you throwing my people under the bus to suit your own political agenda!"

"Excuse me," said Bellatrix while childishly raising her hand. "I'm still in the room here. And I'm not happy!"

Bellatrix had met Pius once and only once, at his inauguration, in fact. After Amelia Bones had accepted a promotion, the relatively young Pius had been her appointed successor. He was an idealist half-blood, whom had promised to clean up the Department from corruption and bribery. Though Bellatrix very much supported this effort, she feared that Pius actually lacked the spine to do any proper housecleaning, as he was not someone who liked making unpopular decisions.

"We have a mole in Purity Front," said Nymphadora. "A high-ranking official of the Ministry was approached by agents of the Purity Front some months ago. They wanted this official to spy on the highest levels of the Ministry and lobby pure-blood causes for them, but they didn't count on the mole having a conscience and revealing their intent to us."

"What's most disturbing about this, is that our mole revealed that Purity Front has done this before a frightening amount of times. The mole is the first of them all to come forward," Pius said. "We fear they wish to destabilize the position of the Ministry and the Department. We need someone to infiltrate them, gather evidence of their treachery and find out just how deep this conspiracy goes."

"Who is this mole?" Bellatrix asked.

Nymphadora shook her head. "Only Pius knows. The mole will feed us information, on the condition that the mole's identity is never revealed. I don't even know if it's a man or a woman."

"The mole has risked much, so I will honor this agreement," Pius said.

"Can this mole be trusted?" Bellatrix asked.

"I guarantee it."

The next question was obvious. "Why me?"

Pius leaned forward. "You are perfect for the job. Black is an ancient pure-blood name and your family's obsession with blood purity is well-known. Furthermore, your personnel record speaks for itself; there are a large number of complaints about you from people outside the Department and you have a problem with authority figures. But you have always served with distinction and reported a great number of instances of corruption within the Department, often at the cost of your own advancement. Your 'defection' would be believable, but your loyalty to us would not be question."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and bristled at this insult; _As if her loyalty could ever been in question!_ "Indeed?" she hissed. "Has there ever been a reason for doubt?!"

The snappily dressed politician held up his hands. "I have insulted you, for which I humbly apologize. Truly, you are one of the Department's finest officers and, even though you might not be one of the most... diplomatic... representatives, this task is eminently suited for someone of your skill, disposition and dedication."

_'Oh, yes,' _Bellatrix thought while rolling her eyes. '_He's a politician, alright_.'

"We have strong reasons to believe that the Department has been compromised. As such, only the four of us will be aware of this operation. We need to come up with a cover story to mask your true mission," Pius said.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jensen said. "Pius, I will not have you throw one of my people to the wolves. Trix is not trained for this and has no experience with undercover work. This is a matter for the aurors, not for Magical Homicides. I will not allow you to expose someone under my command to any unnecessary risks."

"That is why Tonks is here," Pius said. "She will be your field runner should you decide to undertake this mission."

"Black and Tonks," Nymphadora smirked. "Sounds like the name of a proper cop show. It's perfect; you'll be the grizzled cynical veteran and I'll be the brash young hot-head rookie. Can't go wrong with that."

Bellatrix sighed heavily. She had no idea what a 'cop show' was, but Dora seemed to be excited about it, at least. There was another point which needed to be addressed, however.

"You do realize I have a Muggle-born girlfriend, right?" Bellatrix crossed her arms. "The people of the Front will consider me a blood-traitor."

"But this is not wide-spread public knowledge," Pius said. "It shouldn't be a problem as long as you're careful. It's vital that you are accomplished in Occlumancy and can keep your motives hidden. Another reason why I chose you for this task."

"Trained? Hardly. I just prefer to keep my thoughts private," Bellatrix shook her head at the absurdity of it all. "Is this a good time to talk about the raise again, Jensen?" Bellatrix laughed. "My girlfriend and I bought a house and we're not even close to finishing..."

"I'll double your salary," Pius broke in. That statement turned some heads. It was obvious there was desperation in his voice; he really wanted her to do this.

With Bellatrix's joke now having some unexpected results, the dark witch blinked in surprise. "C-could I get that in writing, please?" she croaked slightly.

Pius nodded. "I'll have my secretary put it through immediately. I understand that we haven't rewarded your loyalty as much as we should have. Really, considering all the promotions you were unjustly passed up for, you should be earning much more by now anyway."

Bellatrix was far from insipid, of course. She quite understood what was going on. Pius, along with other appointed department heads, were faced with a herculean task of trying to clean up government corruption. Of course, those who were corrupt were naturally reluctant to give up their ill-gotten gains, leading to him being stonewalled at every turn. This was a man who needed a victory to shore up his position and validate Ministry policies. And he was hoping Bellatrix could provide him with one.

The dark witch nodded, and started to understand that if she refused this mission, any chance of any sort of future advancement within the Department would be down the drain. This would be a career defining decision.

"Oh, alright, I'll do it," Bellatrix sighed. "It's not like I have anything else to do now that I no longer have a caseload."

"Oh, for crying out..." Jensen grunted in frustration and swiveled his seat away from Pius.

It seemed like Pius suddenly breathed more calmly. "Thank you, chief inspector Black. You will be doing a major service to the entire wizarding world."

Nymphadora handed her a file folder. "I took the liberty of preparing some light reading for you. Stop by the auror office tomorrow and we'll get you sorted."

Jensen, in the meantime, looked less than happy. "May I speak with Bellatrix in private, please?"

Pius nodded. "Of course," he turned to Bellatrix. "Thank you again."

Nymphadora waggled her fingers at her before leaving the room. Once they were alone, Jensen leaned against the table and shook his head.

"Oi, mum," Bellatrix chuckled. "Did I just take a bribe?"

"Hell no," Jensen shook his head. "You just got what you've been entitled to for years. I just don't like the hoops Pius is making you jump through to get it."

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Really, mum, I'm a big girl now."

"You don't understand!" Jensen snapped. "Pius has a hardon for getting someone inside the Front. The Department has been trying for years without success. This mole is the inside source he's been waiting for. But I don't like this one bit, Trix. Too much cloak and dagger stuff. There's a reason aurors take special training on silent infiltration. Jesus Christ, Pius is reckless. Amelia would never have allowed this."

"Think I can't pull it off?" It was a challenge, pure and simple. She was a Black and Blacks excelled at whatever task they were assigned. It was a matter of pride.

Jensen bristled in response. "This is not a pissing contest, Trix! I don't like the way how he swindled you into doing his dirty work for him. Why on Earth did you go along with it anyway? I thought you were smarter than that."

"Well," grinned Bellatrix. "Y_ou _didn't get me that raise."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Jensen laughed. "I see you're determined to go through with this. You always were too stubborn for your own good. Just... if you want out of this operation, just come to me. I'll get Pius to pull you out."

Bellatrix smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, mum," she replied.

"I see you're determined to be an idiot," Jensen sighed with a smile. "Very well, until then, you're officially on loan to the auror office."

* * *

Bellatrix was late. She hurried along through the crowds in Diagon Alley to get to the Gilded Veela café to meet her sisters.

After heading back to the office to officially transfer all her cases to her colleagues, she and Jensen devised some cock-and-bull coverstory about her being temporarily transferred to the auror office in an advisory role for a classified assignment. It all had taken a bit longer than expected, meaning she was already late. Embarrassing, considering she had especially taken some hours off work today to be here.

Once inside, one of the waiters led her to the table where Andy and Cissy were already seated and sipping tea. It was a nice, private booth near a window.

"Bella!" greeted Andy. "You made it! We were afraid you'd have to cancel again."

"Bella," Cissy nodded.

"Sorry," said Bellatrix as she sat down, and put her satchel containing Nymphadora's file next to her chair. "Ran into a really strange situation at work."

Cissy huffed. "Please, let's not talk about your work today. Murder most horrid is not proper conversation to have over tea."

"Well, that's me done then," Bellatrix smirked as sipped her tea. Mint, her favorite. "I hope you two brought topics to talk about."

The contrast between the three sisters was like night and day. Cissy was every bit prim and proper as could be, wearing expensive silken clothes, her styled blonde hair pinned up and drinking her tea with her pinky finger so firmly extended it could cut glass. Andy was very much the middle sister; she wasn't affluent per say, but she dressed sharply and bore what she had proudly. Her mood could best be described as enthusiastic. Meanwhile, Bellatrix was the crass one; simple black clothing, long black leather coat, messy hair and a generally cynical outlook on life. Though, even she had to admit that ever since she'd been with Hermione, she'd mellowing considerably.

"This is nice," said Andy. "How long has it's been since the three of us have been together in one room?"

"Almost two years," said Cissy.

"Too long," Bellatrix agreed. "Mostly my fault, though. I don't even dare to count all the times I've cancelled because of work. Hermione and I were too busy moving a couple of times."

Andy smiled at her. "You've changed so much over the past year, and for the better. Hermione has been such a good influence on you. Cissy, I don't recall if you've ever met Hermione."

The youngest Black sister put down her teacup and shook her head. "No, I haven't. Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect. My Draco doesn't hold her high regard and has told me this on numerous occasions. Yet what you and Bella tell me is the complete opposite. I'm not sure what to make of her."

Indeed, Bellatrix didn't find this to be very odd. She was closer to Andy than she was to Cissy, and Cissy wasn't the type who'd drop by on a whim like Andy often did.

"Well," Andy said. "I am sure that if you'd meet her, you could make up your own mind. She's a very polite, smart and kind-hearted young lady."

"So why is she with Bella, then?" Cissy replied.

"Hey!" Bellatrix frowned, to which Cissy showed just the slightest grin. "Hermione is also headstrong, opinionated and bossy."

"Hm, sounds about right. Honestly, I was so surprised that you of all people ended up in a relationship with a mu...ggleborn," Cissy said. "You used to be such a hardliner on blood purity."

Bellatrix nodded for a moment. "Hermione won't let me forget about that either."

"Perhaps you should bring her to our mansion," said Cissy. "For a proper meet-and-greet dinner party."

Bellatrix bit her lip. "I doubt Hermione would enjoy the experience. Both Lucius and Draco have made their thoughts on her quite clear."

"Nonsense. Hermione is family now," Cissy replied. "Don't worry. I will make sure the boys behave."

"I'll talk to her about it," said Bellatrix.

Andy scowled slightly. "I am suddenly reminded of the first time I introduced Ted to you, Cissy."

Cissy shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, let's not talk about that."

"You thought Ted was the waiter!"

"Which wouldn't have happened if he had only dressed snappier!"

"So it's Ted's fault now?!" Andy huffed.

Bellatrix watched the exchange with some amusement and decided to weigh in. "Well, to be honest, Andy, Ted isn't exactly an alpha male."

Andy's ire was now turned towards Bellatrix. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Now now," Bellatrix held up her hands. "I didn't say that was a bad thing."

"When my Lucius enters a room, he demands attention and respect from everybody. He is the center of any gathering, any meeting or any party," Cissy spoke before sipping her tea. "When your Ted enters a room, people expect him to show them to their seats."

"Do they respect your Lucius or do they fear him?" said Andy. "Fear doesn't lead to true respect. My Ted might not be as imposing as Lucius, but he wins their respect through his kindness and personality."

Bellatrix smirked. "And my Hermione is more intelligent than both of your husbands combined and far better looking. There. I win. You may commence pouting now."

Cissy and Andy looked at her with narrowed eyes. Cissy scraped her throat before speaking. "Well... if you are really so entranced with her, you might want to consider your looks a bit more."

"What?" Bellatrix frowned and looked down at herself. "What's wrong with my looks?"

The tiniest smirk tugged on the corners of her lips. "I'd write you a list, but I'd need an extra long scroll of parchment to do so. Would it really hurt you to make yourself look prettier for Hermione? Seriously, Bella, your girl has needs. You should see to them."

Bellatrix leaned back in her chair and grinned wickedly as she hung her arm over the side. "I see to my girl's needs on a regular basis, thank you very much," she grinned wickedly. "I'm not having any complaints about getting my own needs seen to either."

Andy giggled slightly. "I don't know. You might not consider Ted an alpha male, but he certainly is in the bedroom. This lucky witch is thoroughly satisfied and happy."

Cissy almost choked on her tea. "I... I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"It's just a little healthy sibling rivalry, Cissy," Bellatrix grinned. "Come one, we shared. Now it's your turn."

"I refuse to lower myself to sharing bedroom secrets! I swear, you're both so common!" said Cissy. Both Andy and Bellatrix crossed their arms and stared at Cissy intently, refusing to let up. Cissy put down her now empty tea-cup and let out a brief sigh. "He makes me melt into puddle."

"Ah!" Bellatrix clapped her hands. "Well done, Cissy. Oh, now that I have you both here, there's something I would like you to try."

She called over a waiter. "Yes, do you stock cola here?"

The waiter nodded. "Indeed we do."

"Ah, for three, please."

Cissy frowned. "Cola? What is that?"

"It's a Muggle drink," said Bellatrix. "Andy, don't say a word until Cissy has tried it."

"Lips are sealed!" Andy promised.

The haughty Narcissa scrunched up her nose. "A Muggle drink? Since when you do lower yourself to such depths? I'm not so sure this Hermione is such a good influence on you after all."

"Just trust me on this one, Cissy," said Bellatrix, just as the waiter returned with three glasses and three small glass bottles with red and white labels. The waiter poured the fizzy brown liquid into their glasses and took his leave.

Cissy seemed less than impressed by the brown liquid fizzing in her glass, studying it from all sides.

"Do you really want me to drink... this...?" Cissy said, while Andy's offered her an encouraging smile. "I might catch something!"

"Try it," said Bellatrix as she raised her own glass to her lips.

Ever so slowly, Cissy put the glass to her mouth and took the tiniest of sips. Her eyes grew wide as saucers and before long, she took another sip. And then another one. "This... this is fantastic! And you say Muggles made this?"

"Indeed they did," said Bellatrix. Considering wizards were infamous sweet tooths, it wasn't strange that a drink which was about one-third diluted sugar would be to Cissy's satisfaction.

"Ladies," Andy raised her glass. "To the Black sisters. Siblings through thick and thin. May nothing ever come between us, no man, no woman, no politics, no adversity."

"I'll drink to that," said Bellatrix as she raised her own.

"Here here," agreed Cissy.

* * *

Bellatrix had gone home right after the genuinely enjoyed meeting with her sisters, went in for a quick shower and ended up sitting on the couch wearing a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. With a glass of water at her side, she flipped through the case file Nymphadora had given her. All that was known about the Purity Front for in this, disappointingly thin, file.

The Purity Front had been founded in 1984, after a law went in effect which made it easier for Muggle-borns to purchase property in the wizarding world. She remembered the outrage among the pure-blood families at the time. The Purity Front had been formed as a backlash against a series of reforms favoring equal rights for Muggle-borns. There was no one leader or founder known. It's first appearance was through an anonymous pamphlet spread to the shoppers of Diagon Alley.

The Front now owned a rather large public lodge near that same alley; aurors had been posting surveillance ever so often, but never really got far within the organization. Getting inside would be a real challenge for Bellatrix. It was known she was a cop, so she expected a lot of suspicion along the way.

Most of the known members were young pure-bloods who spread the ridiculous propaganda from the Purity Front manifesto. When the Purity Front had grew larger about a decade ago, Bellatrix had entertained the notion of going to one of their rallies to see what the fuss was about and perhaps even pick up a girl there to bring home for the night. However, she'd never gotten around to it and the Leaky Cauldron had plenty of female clientele to flirt with anyway.

Seriously, reading the few fragments of the manifesto she had read had made her happy that she'd never gone to one; it was rife with nonsense, often even contradicting itself.

Evidence gathered by attempted infiltration pointed to a prestigious inner circle which was the true leadership of the Front. Members of this inner circle were not known by name and never showed themselves in public. There'd been whispers of the Front trying to get a foothold in the Ministry, but nothing had ever been proven.

To be honest, Bellatrix found the whole thing to be rather exciting. She was quite proud of the work she did for Magical Homicides, but she this was something entirely different. The dark witch would have to use her deductive reasoning on the fly, manipulate people and play her cards just right to get ahead. It was going to be an interesting challenge to say the least.

She studied the file through and through, until a pop sounded from the fireplace. Bellatrix looked up and saw her beloved Hermione appear from the fireplace. She closed the file and slipped it back into her satchel, out of sight.

"Oh, Belle," Hermione said in surprise. "You're already home?"

"Oh, yes," said Bellatrix before she and Hermione brushed lips. "Got something interesting to tell you. Have a seat."

The dark witch told her girlfriend about what had happened at the office today.

"Congratulations," said Hermione after she gave Bellatrix a quick hug. "Finally, it's about time you got some recognition for your dedication."

"A pay-rise of this magnitude is more than just recognition," Bellatrix said. "The extra money will really help us to finally get this house finished. We might even consider that part-time house-elf we've been talking about to keep this place clean. Hell, I'd be happy with a proper floor in our bedroom."

Of course, Hermione being Hermione, she had insisted on employing a free elf on a salary. Bellatrix had long ago accepted that this was a fight that she was not going to win, even though she felt like time-sharing an indentured elf like so many other families did was a much better and reliable option.

"I'm not so sure about this undercover assignment," Hermione said as she plopped down in a lazy chair near the fireplace. "It sounds dangerous."

Hermione seemed quite concerned, but Bellatrix wasn't worried. "Hey," she smirked. "This is _me_ we're talking about. And seriously, those people aren't smart enough to be dangerous. Hell, they weren't even smart enough not to get caught with their hands in the cookie jar."

"What do they want you to do?"

Bellatrix rubbed her chin. Sure, she wasn't supposed to be revealing her mission to anyone and she knew she wasn't supposed to tell. But, really, this was Hermione and she was not the most likely of persons to tip off the Purity Front. "Sure, but keep this to your self, hm, or you might put the mission at risk. They want me to infiltrate the Purity Front and gather evidence of them trying to destabilize the wizarding world. According to an insider source, they've been trying to corrupt the government."

"Purity Front," Hermione shook her head. Bellatrix quite understood; it was the Purity Front which had made life miserable for her at Hogwarts in her later years. "Well, I hope you can take them down a notch. Muggle-borns have it hard enough as it is."

"Hm," Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "I think undercover work is very difficult, so I would like some practice. I'm pretty sure we could practice some undercover work upstairs."

Hermione laughed. "God, you're incorrigible. Bit early for that, wouldn't you say?"

"I would like a _lot_ of practice," winked Bellatrix.

"Rrrrrrrrrright," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you get the mail from the box?" she asked, ignoring Bellatrix's flirting.

"Yep," Bellatrix nodded. "Just an annoying commercial howler and a letter for you from Potter about a birthday party for the Weasel-boy."

"And did you check the Muggle-mail?"

Bellatrix blinked. _Oh, bollocks!_

"Well, did you?"

"Ummmm... Do you want the honest answer or the vaguely evasive answer?"

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione sighed in frustration while she rose from the lazy chair. "How long have you been living in this house?!"

The young witch stomped towards the mailbox next to the front door and remained in the vestibule for a while. About two minutes later, Hermione returned to the living room and tossed a stack of Muggle advertisements into a blue plastic basket for recycling. Recycling, a rather irritating practice which Hermione had insisted upon; a Black did not stick her hands in garbage, after all. The now more demure Hermione plopped down in the lazy chair without saying a word.

"Alright," said Bellatrix as she crossed her arms. "What is it you don't want me to see?"

Hermione looked stricken. "What? No, n-nothing, I..."

"Pet," Bellatrix started. "You'd have happily continued chewing me out even if there was nothing in the Muggle-mail, but you were dead quiet when stepped back into the room. Your shirt is suddenly no longer tucked into your pants and you stuttered when I confronted you."

Hermione sighed heavily and fished an envelope from the hem of her pants. "Sometimes I really hate living with a detective."

Inside the envelope was a printed brown card. Hermione turned the card in her hands and looked rather frustrated.

"Pet, why are you so upset by a postcard?"

Hermione bit her lip and squirmed slightly. The young witch obviously didn't feel comfortable sharing this with her, which only made Bellatrix even more curious. "It's, uhm, the, uhm… invitation to the annual Granger family barbecue."

"Annual Granger family barbecue?" Bellatrix frowned. "I've never heard of this before."

Hermione shrugged. "It's your standard family get together. All us Grangers gather in my parents' backyard in the second week of May for catching up and eating a lot of processed meat of dubious quality. A lot of Muggles together in a confined space. You wouldn't like it at all. In fact, I've successfully avoided going for the last three years myself. Last year we were getting ready to move into this house so it was sort of swept underneath the rug. It's not as if I was keeping it from you or anything."

Bellatrix looked at Hermione and allowed a wicked smirk to cross her pale features. Oh, her Hermione didn't like that smirk. No, she didn't like it at all. "Sounds like fun, we're going," the dark witch spoke matter-of-factly.

As soon as the words had left Bellatrix's lips, Hermione blanched completely and only managed to let out a strangled croak in reply. The dark witch grinned inwardly. _Mission accomplished._

"But... but... but... _WHY?!_" Hermione let out in desperation.

"Dear Hermione, you're not embarrassed about your family, now are you?" Bellatrix smirked.

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Of course not! I might not like all of my extended family, but I'm certainly not embarrassed about them."

"Oh. Oh, I get it," Bellatrix said and made an effort to look as sad and pouty as possible. "You're embarrassed about _me,_ aren't you? How could you? Your very own girlfriend? I feel so enriched now."

Bellatrix delighted in her jest. Oh, the look on Hermione's face was priceless. She was such an easy target!

"No, of course not," Hermione seemed startled. "I would never feel embarrassed about you. How could you suggest such a... And you've just completely pulled my leg, haven't you?"

"Might have," Bellatrix winked. "Slightly."

"God!" Hermione exclaimed. "This is why I didn't want you to see that invitation. I knew this would happen! I swear, you're worse than Fred and George!"

"Allow your woman a bit of fun, pet," Bellatrix winked. "Now, about that undercover practicing..."

* * *

The auror office was a tall and broad hall with many open cubicles, rather than the simple desks they had at Magical Homicides. Otherwise, there wasn't much difference between the two departments; the walls were lined with filing cabinet and everywhere hung wanted posted of fugitive dark wizards, along with the occasional illegal werewolf. As most aurors worked in the field, the auror office wasn't usually a busy place. Maybe two of three were in right now and none of them paid her any mind.

Nymphadora Tonks was waiting for her when Bellatrix had entered the auror office office. She wearily looked among the cubicles for a moment.

"No worries," said Nymphadora. "Sirius isn't in. In fact, I wonder if he's ever been in. I've certainly never seen him here."

Bellatrix relaxed somewhat. The last thing she needed was another run with her idiot cousin. The last time that had happened, the both of them had needed emergency treatment at St. Mungo's, after all.

"I don't know," said Nymphadora as she morphed her face. "Sirius looked quite becoming with that pelican's bill."

"Put that thing away," Bellatrix snorted. "I wasn't too happy about the antlers sprouting from my skull. The healers had to saw the damn things off before they were able to get right of them."

"Antlers aside, it's good you're here," said Nymphadora as she got up from her desk and motioned to follow her. "The mole has informed us that a recruiter from the inner circle will be attending today's Purity Front rally. We must act quickly if we want to take advantage of this. Come on, you're getting a make-over."

Nymphadora led Bellatrix towards a side-office. "A make-over?" Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "What's the point of that?!"

"We want you to be noticed by the higher-ups. When you enter the room, you'll want every eye on you. You need to look the part."

"What's wrong with me? Why can't I go how I am now?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

Nymphadora shot her a grin. "Not for me to say. I'll let Henri decide."

"Henri?" Bellatrix asked as Nymphadora led her inside the side-office, which was more like a small conference hall. A skinny man with a thin moustache was waiting for them there.

"This is Henri," said Nymphadora. "He often does work for us."

"Pleased to me..." Bellatrix would never finish that greeting. The skinny man turned around and looked as if he was struck by lightning. He rushed to Bellatrix, orbiting around her while he carefully studied her hair from every angle. "Uhmmm," Bellatrix growled at him. "I suggest you vacate my personal space before I evict you from it with a cruciatus curse!"

"Mon dieu!" Henri exclaimed. "What 'ave you done to your poor, poor 'air! It is like she is warzone!"

Before Bellatrix had any idea what was going on, Henri conjured up a barber's chair and pushed her onto it.

"Dora... What is the meaning of this?!" Bellatrix said through clenched teeth as Henri threw a plastic apron over her chest.

Nymphadora simply leaned against the wall and shot her a cheeky grin. "Henri is one of the best hairdressers in the business. Just let him work his magic on you. He'll give you a miraculous coiffure."

"Right," said Henri as he took out two scissors, one for each hand. "I must break out the 'eavy duty scissors for this madame."

Bellatrix blanched considerably when she suddenly saw tufts of hair fly off into the air while the Frenchman was cutting through her mop like a knife through butter. "Uh, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Bellatrix asked.

"Ssssssh!" Henri shushed. "I am creating art! Oh, your poor 'air. She is so tangled, she is so poorly brushed." Magic crackled in the air as Henri used spells to wet and clean her air, soften it up and disentangle it. More cutting followed and Bellatrix really started to worry when she saw the pile of hair forming next to her chair.

"I swear, if I end up bald..."

"Oh, be quiet, you philistine!"

The cutting continued, and Bellatrix was about to stand up and hex the barber as the pile of hair next to the chair grew steadily.

"Et voila!" said Henri after almost an hour of work. A mirror was conjured in front of her, and Bellatrix gasped at the result. In truth, she was completely amazed. Despite all the hair that had been culled, it was still long enough to cascade over half of her back. Dark curls still danced freely, but her hair was considerably less messy. In fact, her tresses flowed naturally, as if they were waves of the ocean. There was a dark shine to her hair which she hadn't seen in years.

"I... I haven't looked like this since my sixteenth birthday," Bellatrix whispered, honestly in awe of Henri's handiwork.

Henri huffed haughtily. "Of course," he said. "I am an artiste! Though any 'airdresser is vastly inferior to me, I suggest you visit one more often and your 'air will be saved from the indignity of your neglect. And buy a brush while you're at it. Seriously, the 'orrors your poor 'air 'as suffered should brand you as criminally insane."

Though the hairdresser was certainly an insufferable git, Bellatrix could hardly argue the result. She promised herself to buy a new brush and perhaps even visit the hairdresser once in a while. Nymphadora had been watching the exchange with a grin on her face and led her to a changing booth.

"I take it you aurors play dress-up quite often?" asked Bellatrix.

"Goes with infiltration," said Nymphadora as she produced a lovely black evening gown. "The rest of your outfit will be elegant and beautiful, yet will still look like something you can afford on cop's salary. Here, try it on."

Bellatrix slipped into the booth and exchanged her robes and corset for the dress. It was cool and smooth silk, soft on her skin and surprisingly comfortable. The dress came with a set of feminine knee-high boots, which she also wore. Once out of the booth, she looked at herself in the mirror. _I look a decade younger_, she blinked. With her hair neatly trimmed, she made a striking figure. The dress itself was black as night and low-cut, showing off a nice amount of cleavage. The sides of her dress, from the side of her breasts to her waist, were a silken see-through mesh, while her back was mostly bare. A long slit from her ankle to her upper thigh offered her some freedom of movement and a chance to show off her long legs. All in all, the dress was tight-fitting and hugged her slender body.

"You should wear something like this more often, auntie," Nymphadora chuckled. "I'm sure Hermione would appreciate it."

"It's like I'm someone else," Bellatrix whispered. And she supposed that was the entire point. This dress wasn't something that Bellatrix would have worn on her own accord, but she had to admit she looked good and felt good. In the mirror, a very beautiful woman stared back at her. Even moreso when she clipped the black velvet traveling cloak onto her dress; it fell neatly over her shoulders.

"Here," said Nymphadora as she handed her some jewels; a set of golden bracelets, silver diamond-stunned earrings and a golden necklace. "These are on loan, so don't lose them. I might be able to convince them to let you keep the dress, though. And now, for the final piece."

As Bellatrix donned the jewelry, Nymphadora went to a nearby desk to grab a wooden box. Curious, Bellatrix watched as Nymphadora opened it. The dark witch was surprised to see a lovely golden butterfly shoot into the air and fly towards her. The golden insect settled among Bellatrix's dark curls and froze in place once it landed.

"Never take that off when you're undercover. It looks like a fancy hairclip, but it sees what you see, and it hears what you hear. Its recordings play back on a pensieve and are admissible in court, if backed up with other evidence."

"Interesting gadget," said Bellatrix. "Any other dark secrets you aurors like to share?"

"I could, but I'd have to kill you afterward," said Nymphadora with a wink. Another small box fielded a wand; it was narrow and short, much shorter than a regular wand. The plucky auror bent down next to Bellatrix. The dark witch watched in fascination as Nymphadora clipped the wand in the side of her boot. The wand blended into completely; no one would ever know it was there unless they'd know to look for it. "This'll be your backup wand. If the mission goes sour and you find yourself wandless, just make a grab for your boot and yank it out. It's not as powerful as a regular wand, but it'll save your life when you're in a tough spot."

"Handy," said Bellatrix as Nymphadora presented her with a stylish leather belt with a golden buckle.

"This belt is a disguised duplicato ward," said Nymphadora. "You can temporarily duplicate items by touching it with the buckle. This will allow you to remove evidence from the scene without causing suspicion. The duplicate will last for about a week before disappearing."

To demonstrate, Nymphadora pressed the buckle against a desk blotter. Immediately, an exact duplicate appeared right next to it. "Just be sure to grab the real one and not the duplicate, though. That's somewhat of a beginner's mistake. And lastly, your ring."

Nymphadora took a lovely obsidian stone lady's ring from a small box. "If you get in trouble you can't talk yourself out of, just rub the stone on your ring. The ring is part of a set of two and I'll be wearing the other one. If you rub your ring, it'll make mine glow. I'll rush in as quick as I can to back you up. Only use it if the mission goes sour and your life is in danger."

"You aurors got some fancy stuff," said Bellatrix while tying the belt around her waist. A few seconds later, she slipped the ring on her finger.

Nymphadora nodded. "Sure, but it all comes down to the swagger, really. Now, auntie, are you ready to be the worst pure-blood bitch of a woman you can be? Need to impress that recruiter."

"Trust me," Bellatrix snorted. "I've had a lot of experience."


	13. Shades from her past

**Murder Most Horrid**

_Chapter 13: Shades from her past_

Bellatrix strutted through Diagon Alley, ready to set her infiltration in motion. It was nearing noon and quite a bit of shoppers were mulling about the street. Her sexy new look was indeed turning some heads as she made her way towards the Purity Front lodge. The slight discomfort ebbed away as Bellatrix found it extremely satisfying that she could attract the attention of wizards and witches half her age. As she saw it, she was already attracting plenty of attention.

Dare she say it, this was getting to be rather exciting. She was a femme fatale on the prowl, heading to the lion's den with only her wits to rely on.

In all honesty, she had wondered if spying on her own kind constituted as a betrayal to the pure-blood ideal but she had rationalized it quite effectively; if they were crooked and were doing crooked things, it was her job to take them down. It really was as simple as that. Also, she couldn't quite claim to be a supporter of the pure-blood ideal anymore, not when sharing her life with a Muggle-born. Hell, even before meeting Hermione, she never once bothered to check the blood purity of the women she slept with. She might have been with plenty Muggle-borns before and never even known about it!

Indeed. Time to do her job.

Bellatrix looked around and didn't see Nymphadora anywhere. Though, she guessed that was rather the point. Though she was not yet at the contact point, no doubt the plucky auror was hanging around _somewhere _at least. For now, she was on her own.

The Purity Front lodge wasn't so much a lodge as it was a small palace. Located, in a small side-street near the end of Diagon Alley, it almost completely obscured from the bustle. The front entrance led into a much deep building leading far into the wizarding quarter surrounding Diagon Alley. In truth, she'd passed this little street plenty of times while doing some weekly shopping after work, but never felt any desire to actually go in.

Brazen and bombastic, the large lodge was adorned with tacky looking banners advertising their presence. The Front's symbol, a plus-sign within a green circle, was prominently displayed, as was a more recent sign which read 'Pure-bloods only! No half-bloods and certainly no mudbloods allowed!'. It seemed that the Front had gotten confident enough to advertise with slurs. Some people were mulling about, standing in line to get in.

No way in hell Bellatrix Black would be standing in line for anything! The dark witch took a deep breath and stepped towards the door... only to be stopped by the bouncer.

"Hold," spoke a darwinian nightmare with a barrel chest and arms the size of treetrunks. However, if the brute thought he was intimidating Bellatrix, he was sadly mistaken.

The dark witch narrowed her eyes as the man took out a wand and started roving it across her body. "What are you doing?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Stand still," said the man. "This spell will determine your blood status. We don't want any filth dragging mud into our clean hall."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and whipped out her own wand with the speed of lightning. "Expelliarmus!" she shouted and caught the man's wand the moment he was forced to release it. The dark witch pointed both wands at him and snarled wickedly. "This is an insult! Do you realize who I am? I am Bellatrix Black. Black! As in, Noble and Most Ancient House of! Perhaps you've heard of the Black family motto? _Toujours Pur_? You should feel honored that I am darkening your pathetic lodge with my noble presence!"

For a moment, Bellatrix considered she might be laying it on a bit thick, but the bouncer reacted just as she had predicted; with grovelling.

"I... it's just the rules, madam Black, I..."

"Try it again and you'll be determining the blood status of your colon!" Bellatrix shrieked after tossing his wand on the ground. "Now let me in!"

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

Bellatrix nodded and was quite satisfied with herself. The other pure-bloods in line were whispering and looking at her; the point was to be noticed and she had definitely gotten off to a good start.

She was let into the lodge and walked through a long hallways adorned with mahogany wood panelling. There was a coat-check room where Bellatrix handed in her cloak. Beyond the cloakroom, she ended up in a large hall filled with people of all ages. If the Purity Front symbolism wasn't everywhere to be seen, it might even be mistaken for a cheerful party. Pleasant wizard music sounded through the hall, while the house-elves behind a large bar at the side served all manner of food and drink. People chatted pleasantly, some even danced. Most young people enjoyed the evening. She hardly saw any faces which looked even a smattering of familiar.

However, looks were deceiving; young people were handing out pamphlets with the usual propaganda, on a small podium stood a particularly awful stand-up comedian making crass jokes about Muggle-borns and most of the small talk she caught glimpses are were all on the topic of how blood traitors were the worst of the worst.

Bellatrix mostly tested the waters by having a few superficial chats with some of the attendees, only to quickly conclude that most of them were complete morons with nothing even remotely interesting to say.

_Moan, complain and whine… _

Bellatrix continued observing. So far, she hadn't seen anyone who could be the recruiter. Usually, people like that loved obsequious toads giving them attention so they tended to stand out. No luck so far. She wondered if the mole had actually been correct about the recruiter attending. Perhaps the recruiter had pulled out at the last moment?

Then started something called the 'airing of grievances'. Bellatrix hung back for a moment to observe. One by one, wizards and witches came forward to the podium to tell everybody gathered just how awful their lives were and how Muggle-borns were to blame for it.

A pure-blood man she did not know stood on the podium. "I was up for a big promotion at work. I was the best man for the job. But then they gave the job intended for me to a mudblood whom had only been working there half as long as I had! Affirmative action at it's finest!"

The story was met with hollers and slurs against Muggle-borns. Bellatrix could only shake her head. '_I just bet the Muggle-born didn't get the job because of affirmative action, but because you are too dumb to tie your own shoelaces __together',_ she thought as she watched the man triumphantly walk off the stage. '_What's the matter? Can't make it in the real world without daddy's money?'_

_Moan, moan, complain and whine… _

The next person on the stage was a stocky pure-blood lady, complaining rather loudly that the many Muggle-borns living in her neighborhood were likely to decrease the value of her mansion. Bellatrix caught herself before she could roll her eyes.

_Moan, moan, moan, complain and whine. _

Still, the airing of the grievances was her best chance to make an impression on the recruiter. So far, she still didn't have a clue who the recruiter was. She'd have to make the recruiter come to _her_ instead.

After taking a deep breath, Bellatrix raised her hand as the announcer asked for the next person to come forward. She brushed past the person whom had originally raised his hand to be heard and took to the stage.

_Right. Got to make this look good._

"Esteemed lady-witches and gentle-wizards," she started as she took to the podium. "My name is Bellatrix Black, of the noble house of Black and I am proud to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

More than a few wolf-whistles could be heard. Bellatrix opened her purse, took out her shiny silver badge and held it out for the crowd to see. "This badge used to mean something. A symbol of law and order within our great and pure ranks. Yet the last ten years I've been increasingly disturbed to see the Department bend over backwards to appease the mudbloods! True justice is being subverted for the sake of political gain!"

The crowd hung on Bellatrix's every word. "We've all read the papers yesterday. A dragon escaped from the Wales sanctuary and was seen by hundreds of Muggles. Terrible business. But what the papers didn't tell was that the dragon escaped because its mudblood keeper was sleeping on the job! The truth has been sacrificed on the altar of correctness!"

It was a lie, pure and simple, but the crowd was genuinely outraged. So far, her plan was working just fine. "And to make matters worse, the Ministry was forced to formally apologize... to show deference to the Muggle prime minister! We are wizards! Since when do we apologize to Muggles for _anything_ we do! Muggles and mudbloods have far too much influence over us! What has happened to our wonderful Wizard calendar? Why are we using the Muggle calendar? To appease those inferior to us, that's why!" shrieked Bellatrix. "To appease the mudbloods, the entire wizarding world is using a calendar invented by an insipid Muggle religion, which would have gladly and gleefully put any of us to the torch no less than two centuries ago!"

The crowd jeered and whipped up as Bellatrix spoke. It was rhetoric, illogical, nonsensical and untrue; the wizarding calendar was a convoluted and inaccurate mess, which for some idiotic reason had fourteen months in a year even after correction! Its inaccuracy had been the entire reason why the Gregorian calendar had been adopted centuries ago, for purely practical purpose. Of course, this crowd was beyond reason, beyond logic and beyond critical thinking. The gathered wizards and witched lapped it all up like sugared water.

"We need to take full measures to protect what we have!" Bellatrix said. "Because the mudblood hordes are pounding on the gates! It's five minutes to midnight, my friends! We must take action now! For a pure and beautiful wizarding world!"

The crowd erupted in cheers as Bellatrix stepped off the stage. Several of the gathered wizards clapped her on the back as she passed. More than one male hand lingered a bit too long on her flesh, making her shiver slightly. "Down with mudbloods! Down with mudbloods! Down with mudbloods!"

_'Forgive me, Hermione. It's for a good cause,' _Bellatrix thought to herself as she quietly tried to blend back into the crowd. If Hermione had been present, her young girlfriend would not only have been horrified and sad, but would undoubtedly have tried to head to the podium to correct what had just been said with logic, reason and good arguments. All of which would have been immediately considered invalid by these pure-bloods because a woman with 'inferior' blood was doing the talking.

Worst thing yet, Bellatrix's younger self could have easily _been_ one of these morons.

Thankfully, the girl she had at home was a stark reminder why she was doing this. Bellatrix had changed much since meeting her. Today's rally just brought home just how stuck in the past pure-bloods tended to be. She didn't see strong, proud pure-blood paragons; she saw a bunch of whiny little children, looking to blame others for their own obvious inadequacies and misfortune. Perish the thought that they would actually _do_ something about their plight and better themselves. But no, it was all moan, moan, moan, moan, complain and whine…

It was the middle of the day! Why weren't these people at work? Probably because they didn't have work in the first place.

To Bellatrix, every single one of them was beyond pathetic. Hell, even the Weasleys worked hard to make something of themselves in the world. It made them instantly more impressive than this lot of whining sods, and that was a saying a lot.

This is why she had always preferred to be alone. Worst thing was that if today didn't go well, she'd have to try again another. And again. And again. To be around all these horrid people over... and over... and over...

_Bugger this, I need a drink_.

The dark witch made her way to the bar and ordered a double fire-whiskey. Before she could take the first sip, Bellatrix was approached by two friendly but firm looking wizards, who requested her presence. _This is it_, she thought, happy to not have to make any other speech to attract the recruiter's attention. Leaving her fire-whiskey behind, the wizards took her nondescript side hallway cordoned off with a protective spell. A sign above the hallway read 'staff only'.

Through the barrier, she was led up a staircase which ended at a small balcony which overlooked the lodge hall below. Due to the fact that she had no actually seen this balcony from below, she concluded it must have been shielded by an invisibility charm. The balcony was adorned with a comfortable set of seats, a small coffee table and several tacky paintings hanging from the wood panels. On the table stood two wine-glasses, freshly poured, next to a decanter.

A slow clap sounded from the room's sole occupant as Bellatrix's approached. The two other wizards left her alone with him and closed the door behind her. "My, my, my..." sounded a disgustingly familiar voice. "That was a very impressive speech. You were a sight to behold."

Her breath caught in her throat; she was facing a ghost from her past.

The wizard in front of her just like he remembered him. Tall, clad in black, pale complexion, neatly trimmed hair and a short beard on his chin. The dark witch felt many things; anger, revulsion, pain, sadness, but bit it all down. She couldn't show any weakness now.

The man sitting in front of her was none other than Rodolphus Lestrange. The man whom had almost been her husband.

"Bella," he smiled and took her hand. It took every bit of willpower in her body not to yank it back and slap him in the face immediately. Instead, Rodolphus guided her to the second seat.

"Please. Sit," he spoke. "Let me look at you."

Bellatrix pushed back the urge to wretch as his eyes roved over her body, lingering at every curve. "Merlin, you are every bit as beautiful as you were during our Hogwarts years."

He gently took her hand again and kissed the back of it. Bellatrix suppressed a shudder and had to fight to keep a haughty composure; every fiber of her being wanted to run off to find the nearest faucet and scrub off using steel wool.

This was the man whom had killed Katie so long ago, a murder he had gotten away with. Katie, the first real friend she had ever had. Lestrange had been ruthless and cruel in his days at Hogwarts and she doubted he had changed in any meaningful way. Though she was almost certain Rodolphus was too simpleminded to master the intricacies of legilimency, she wasn't willing to take the risk and put her barriers up firmly. The dark witch didn't want Rodolphus to know Hermione even existed.

"And you are exactly as I remember you," said Bellatrix in a neutral fashion. Thankfully, Rodolphus took it as a compliment.

"Well," said Rodolphus while picking up the glasses. "Some wine?"

"Please," replied Bellatrix, trying her best to seem like pleasant company even though she would rather be bludgeoning him to death with the wine decanter.

"Before we discuss anything else, I do believe I owe you a long overdue apology," said Rodolphus.

"Oh?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

Rodolphus looked away, shaking his head. "When our engagement was announced, I... didn't exactly treat you like a proper lady should have been. Chalk it down on the foolishness of youth."

That was an understatement. He had gone around telling just about the entire school what he was planning to do to her on their wedding night, down to the last sordid details. She half expected him to have drawn up a chart to show to the innocent first-years.

"What's done is done," Bellatrix spoke matter-of-factly.

Rodolphus nodded as he lounged on his chair. "Indeed. I had driven you so far away you chose exile to avoid our marriage."

Bellatrix blinked. That egotist! Did he really think _he_ was the sole reason she had turned chosen to defy her family? Certainly, he was the catalyst, but he was giving himself far too much credit. "I did rather well for myself," said Bellatrix as neutrally as she could while fighting back the bile which was bubbling up.

"Indeed," spoke Rodolphus. "You might be pleased to know that there were some vicious rumors floating about that your experience with me turned you off men altogether."

Bellatrix smirked. "Is that so? Vicious rumors indeed."

The two of them sipped their wine in silence for a moment while more wizards took to the stage to air their grievances below. Same shit, different guy. "Tell me," Bellatrix said. "How is Baz doing?"

Partly it was about making small-talk and partly out of genuine interest. She hadn't seen Rebastan Lestrange for many, many decades. In truth she'd always liked the man; he was Rodolphus' older brother and three years ahead of her when she first attended Hogwarts. A prefect. During her troubled first year away from home, Baz had taken her under his wing. He's taught her how school politics worked and how to exploit the rules. Baz had treated her as somewhat of an unofficial little sister for the rest of their shared tenture and had even helped her plan the take-over of Gryffindor tower. Unlike his cad of a younger brother, Baz had always treated her with respect.

Immediately, Rodolphus' pleasant demeanor did a 180 degree turn. "Don't talk to me about that filthy blood-traitor! Do you know what he did?! Twenty-five years ago he met some American bint while interning at the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry. A mudblood. A MUDBLOOD! He didn't even care, ran off the States and fathered two little mudcrawlers with her!"

'_Good for him!'_ was the first thought that shot through the dark witch's mind.

Rodolphus seemed to calm down somewhat. "I apologize for my outburst, but it hurts my head to even think of it. I told the man I once called my bother," his voice was full of malice, "that if he were to ever return to the UK, I'd find his little mudcrawlers and kill them right before his eyes."

'_Right, that's a good way to alienate yourself from your own family'_ Bellatrix thought, but found an something she could exploit. "I quite understand your feelings on the matter. My sister married a mudblood."

Rodolphus settled down somewhat. "They you know the sting of betrayal. It hurts most when it comes from your own family, does it not?"

In truth, she didn't want to carry this any further, not even wanting to have Andromeda's name mentioned. The dark witch could hear on his voice that she had won some points with him, however. Her ploy had had the desired effect; she dared to think she was doing well so far.

"I have not seen you here before," said Rodolphus. "I'm certain I would have remembered you attending one of our rallies, Bella."

Bella forced a pleasant smile. "Please, I might be a Black in exile, but I have never been a blood-traitor. Truth be told, my work keeps me rather busy. I do not have much free time."

"If you had been my wife, you wouldn't ever have had to work," said Rodolphus. The implication was clear and she resented him for it – he'd wanted her to be his own private house-witch. At home and pregnant, no doubt.

"Oh, but I quite enjoy my work," countered Bellatrix. This would be an excellent opportunity to 'sell her value' to the inner circle of the Purity Front. "I work for Magical Homicides, a sub-department of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's a very fulfilling, if rather busy job."

"Truly?" Rodolphus seemed surprised. "You solve crimes of such a dire nature?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "You seem surprised."

Rodolphus held up his hands. "I never meant to insult, Bella. It's just that... you weren't exactly a stickler for the rules when we last spoke. You must have broken just about every school rule in the book."

Bellatrix smirked. That much was true. "I appreciate the irony."

"Touche," he grinned at her.

"My work brought me here, actually," Bellatrix said. This would require some careful maneuvering.

"Indeed?"

"I love working for the Department. I love what I do," said Bellatrix, keeping at least the sentiment close to the truth. "Law enforcement is very fulfilling work, necessary work. That's why it pains me so much to see mudbloods corrupt everything the Department stands for. Did you know that there are fewer and fewer pure-bloods working for the Department each year? It should be no surprise that the number of crimes solved is dwindling as well. The Department is rife with nepotism and incompetence. I hate seeing the work I love so much be undone by unscrupulous mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. I'm hoping the Purity Front might be of help there."

"We grow in numbers every day," Rodolphus grinned. "We cast a long shadow, Bella. Maybe, with your help, our shadow can grow even longer. We need people in the right places if we are to ensure pure-blood rule."

_Hook. Line. Sinker._

"Tell me, though," Rodolphus said. "I take it you go easier on pure-bloods than mudbloods during your investigations?"

"Absolutely not!" Bellatrix replied, not even hiding that she was insulted by the implication.

"I find that curious, given your outlook," said Rodolphus.

Bellatrix rubbed her chin. "Wise up, Rodolphus," she said. "If they are too stupid to get caught, they deserve everything that's coming to them, regardless of blood purity. Last year, we put away a pure-blood kid who had killed his pregnant half-blood girlfriend. He'd bashed his head in with a clock, never cleaned it and never got rid of it. Probably kept it as a trophy. Someone like that is a waste of space in any situation and will never amount to anything."

Rodolphus nodded and seemed to accept that answer. "Would you like another glass of wine?"

"Please."

* * *

Bellatrix found herself back into the street, grateful for the fresh air and the release of her adopted persona. She could act to a certain degree and this came in handy when trying to goad information from a person during an interrogation, but presenting herself as someone she was not was an entirely different thing. However pretending to be a pure-blood supremacist was something she could do. After all, she had been one herself. In truth, she was quite satisfied with today's outcome. There were definite signs that the Purity Front was crooked; she had still to find out just how crooked.

The dark witch felt her lovely dress flow around her as she searched for Dora at the contact point. At the entrance of a dark alley stood a stall where an elderly witch was selling freshly roasted sugar-coated peanuts to passerby's. She had to admit they smelled awfully nice.

"Dear lady," greeted the impossibly old witch as she stood bent over behind the counter. "Can I help you?"

"I would like to see the specials. I hunger for quality dragonsnap sugar-coated Indonesian cashew," Bellatrix spoke the code-phrase.

"Right this way, dearrie," said the old witch, putting up an 'on break'-sign while she motioned her to follow. Once in a more private area behind the stall, surrounded by the barrels of ingredients needed to make the peanuts, the crone's features shifted until she was just barely recognizable as Nymphadora.

"If you already know who I am, why the code-phrase?" asked Bellatrix.

"Allow me my eccentricities," shrugged Nymphadora.

"I've made contact with the recruiter," said Bellatrix.

Nymphadora was hard-pressed to hide her surprise. "What, already? Blimey, you work fast! I was expecting you'd at least have to attend two more gatherings to get noticed," Nymphadora said while the magical golden butterfly flew off Bellatrix's dark locks and landed on the side of a small portable pensieve. "Let's see what you got."

Bellatrix looked over her shoulder. "Rather a public place, isn't it? Shouldn't we go to the safehouse for debriefing?"

"Don't worry, this alley is charmed to keep prying eyes and ears out. I'm just curious," said Nymphadora.

The pensieve came to life and showed the both of them what had happened inside the lodge. The gathering and the speech, for the first part.

"Quite a show back there," snickered Nymphadora. "Ever considered a career in politics?"

"Don't laugh," said Bellatrix. "Twenty years ago, I actually believed that bollocks."

Next, the pensieve showed her meeting with the recruiter. "Bloody hell, what a sleazebag," Nymphadora snarled. "I can smell his cologne from here. Oh, Merlin, that awful chest-hair.

"Tell me about it," said Bellatrix.

Nymphadora looked at Bellatrix intently. "He knows you," she spoke matter-of-factly.

"He should," said Bellatrix. "That is Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Is that someone I should have heard of?"

"He was almost my husband," Bellatrix sighed. "Before I refused him and got myself exiled for my trouble."

Nymphadora sighed heavily. "Shit. That could be dangerous. Is he a threat to your cover?"

"Hell no," Bellatrix snorted. "If anything he's a boon to my cover. He's the same dense idiot he used to be. Last time we saw each other was at Hogwarts, and that was over two decades ago. No, he's completely convinced I'm still the rabid pure-blood supremacist I used to be. Rodolphus being the recruiter is going to work in my favor. He asked me to come visit the lodge again tomorrow."

"Just be on your toes," said Nymphadora. "And remember your ring if you find yourself in danger."

"I'll be fine," Bellatrix shook her head. "That idiot won't get the better of me. I can guarantee that."

"Right, head over to the safe house. I'll close the stand for the evening and join you in a bit. We'll do a proper debriefing. Then get some rest, you've earned it," said Nymphadora. "Oh, and remember to say hi to Hermione from me."

Bellatrix grinned and crossed her arms when the butterfly returned to its perch among her dark curls. "Hey, what about my cashew?"

Nymphadora once again shifted into her old crone persona. "Of course, dearrie," she cackled.

* * *

After a very successful first day of undercover work had concluded with a very lengthy and detailed debriefing with Dora at the auror safehouse in Dartford, Bellatrix carefully replaced the magical butterfly into its case and locked it in a safe.

Finally, it was time to go home. The dark witch popped into existence from her fireplace in her house, still chewing the last of the delicious sugared cashew. The first thing she noticed was a strong smell of burned food as she drew in her first breath.

"Pet?" she asked. "I'm home. Dora says 'hi'."

"Over here, Belle," Hermione called out, apparently from the kitchen. And there she found her beloved Hermione, looking rather crestfallen as she stood over a charred husk on the kitchen counter. In fact, she looked rather cute; wearing slacks and an old T-shirt and with damp bushy hair, the young witch stood bare-foot in the kitchen, apparently studying what was left of a once promising meal.

"What's that supposed to be?" Bellatrix asked.

"Our dinner. This charred ruin is supposed to be a lamb casserole," Hermione said mournfully. "I botched it up quite expertly, I fear. I suppose I'm a better potioneer than a chef. I thought it was safe take a shower while the lamb roasted in the oven. I really shouldn't have done that, because..."

At that moment, Hermione looked up and was utterly stunned. Bellatrix first reaction was to look over her shoulder to see what was happening behind her, until she realized she was still wearing the sexy dress and her hair actually looked good today.

"Oh... my..." Hermione gulped. "You look gorgeous!"

Bellatrix playfully crossed her arms. "Are you implying that I usually don't?"

"Not _this_ gorgeous…"

Bellatrix shrugged. "It's my undercover kit. Do you like it? Uhm, pet? Eyes are up here."

"I know perfectly well where your eyes are," said Hermione as her eyes kept roving over Bellatrix's body. "You need to go undercover more often, Belle."

"I suppose we'll be eating out today," Bellatrix said when regarding the botched dinner.

"Uh-huh," was Hermione's lustful reply.

Bellatrix blinked. Usually it was Bellatrix herself who came up with the double-entendres to embarrass her more prudish girlfriend. Her new look must have really gotten to Hermione. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Hermione! I'm hungry!"

Hermione snapped out of what fantasy she had been having and nodded in response. "Yes, I suppose so," she sounded somewhat disappointed. "Which restaurant did you have in mind? Or maybe we could get take-out again."

Bellatrix put her finger to her lips. It would be a shame to waste having this dress on if she'd just get take-out with Hermione. Actually, it was a very alluring thought to take the young witch somewhere. However, she couldn't risk being seen with Hermione by one of the Front's many pure-blood agents, certainly not as her speech was apparently the news of the day among the Front members. A visit to a wizarding restaurant would be out of the question. So, there was only one option... a dire option, but an option nonetheless. "How about that Muggle pub you've been pestering me to try out?"

Indeed; though she risked disease by going to a Muggle place, there would be no chance of accidentally meeting a pure-blood there.

Hermione blinked. "What's gotten into you today?!"

"Just go change clothes before I change my mind, pet," Bellatrix smirked. About ten minutes later, Hermione hooked her arm through Bellatrix's and both lovers strolled off into the evening.

Though the pub was packed and more than a few Muggle eyes were on Bellatrix, she didn't feel as nervous and threatened as she usually did among Muggles. Honestly, all her attention had been on Hermione as they chatted and generally enjoyed their evening together. Certainly, she'd been a bit overdressed for the pub, but it had given Hermione reason to be excessively flirty with her all evening.

After a lovely dinner, Bellatrix and Hermione decided on a pleasant walk back home to their cottage. Evening was falling fast, bathing the countryside in a soft orange glow with the setting of the sun. Hermione had her arm hooked around Bellatrix' possessively.

"Can you believe those men back there?" Hermione huffed. "Trying to chat you up while you were seated right in front of your girlfriend. I bet they wouldn't have tried it if I'd been a seven foot tall lorrydriver with scores of tattoos."

"If you'd been a seven foot tall lorrydriver with scores of tattoos, I wouldn't have been with you in the first place, pet," Bellatrix couldn't help but chuckle. A jealous Hermione was a cute Hermione, after all.

"'_Hey, I'm looking for treasure. Could I search your chest?_'" Hermione repeated one of the more awful examples which had been directed at Bellatrix that evening. "Hello! Girlfriend sitting right at the table!"

"Perhaps that's why most of those blokes came in pairs," Bellatrix winked, throwing oil on the fire.

"Don't remind me!" Hermione sighed. "Ugh, '_My name is Peter Pan and I want to take you to Never Never Land'_. Oh, god, how do they come up with that rubbish?"

"I think you got the point across when you kissed me on the mouth," Bellatrix said with a grin. "Quite... passionately violent, I might add."

"You weren't complaining," said Hermione as the two rounded the corner on the footpath, still linked through the arms. "In fact, I daresay you were loving all the attention."

"Pfffft, they were just filthy Muggles, pet."

"Filthy Muggles who were appreciatively ogling you, Belle," Hermione shot back.

The dark which shrugged, letting out a cackle which sent her dark curls out of formation. "Well," she smirked. "That's bound to happen when the peasantry lays eyes on perfection, pet."

Hermione made a mock-gagging sound. "Oh, you arrogant twit."

"What you see as arrogance," Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "I see as a matter of accuracy in self-assessment."

"And that's why I kissed you in front of everybody," Hermione said without a shred of the usual embarrassment which came with the usual showing of public affection. "I wanted the whole pub to see that you're _mine_ and mine alone!"

'_Right'_, thought Bellatrix. '_And that is why I didn't want to run the risk of taking you to a wizarding restaurant.'_

"Still," Hermione's expression softened. "It was a fun pub with good food and a pleasant atmosphere... when we weren't beset by randy men. Nice ending to a horrible day."

"Oh?" Bellatrix asked. "What happened?"

"The day started pleasant enough, but all of a sudden I got stuck with answering a load of letters of complaint which came out of nowhere," said Hermione. "There were literally dozens of them! Apparently, some complete idiot has started a rumor that the dragon escaping from the sanctuary was due to a Muggle-born keeper sleeping on the job. I swear, have you ever heard anything quite as insane? There aren't even Muggle-borns on staff at the sanctuary!"

"I... see..." Bellatrix bit her lip.

"So I spent my valuable time writing back to all those angry people," Hermione sighed heavily. "I swear, if I ever get my hands on the idiot who started that rumor, I'm going to personally feed him or her to the dragon!"

Bellatrix laughed at the unexpected side-effect of her earlier ploy. "You're so cute when you make violent threats."

Finally, they arrived home. After stepping through front door, what Bellatrix was expecting happened almost immediately; she was being pressed against the wall by a girl with hunger and lust in her normally oh-so-gentle brown orbs. "Belle," she whispered. "I want to measure exactly how much seconds it takes for that dress to come up."

Once in the bedroom, Hermione made her accurate measurement quite successfully.

A few hours later, Bellatrix lay on her back in bed, exhausted after a wonderful evening of lovemaking. Hermione lay sleeping, her head on resting on Bellatrix's midriff, close enough for her soft bushy hair to tickle the underside of her breasts. Her girlfriend was draped over her, one hand lain over Bellatrix's shoulder, while the girl's other hand grasped at her side. Hermione's chest raised rhythmically with every breath.

"Muddy mine," Bellatrix whispered while reached down to run a hand through Hermione's hair. She glanced at her oversized signet ring, her family motto engraved into it. _Toujours pur._

_'Toujours pur, my pretty little arse,' _Bellatrix chuckled inwardly. If the more 'conservative' elements of her family could have seen her right now, she'd be blasted off that damn tapestry at Grimmauld Place in an instant.

Bugger that ratty old tapestry. She was happy.


End file.
